Of Wizards and Demons: Hogsmeade's Devil Hunter
by FaeryMage
Summary: On Hiatus.Aberforth has kept a very big secret from his brother and the rest of the world. The secret is that Aberforth's daughter married and bore the sons of the Legendary Dark Knight Sparda. Just when you thought Dante only had one famous kinsman.
1. Correspondence Spanning the Years

Of Wizards and Demons: Hogmeade's Devil Hunter

Summary: Albus isn't the only Dumbledore that can keep a secret—Aberforth has kept a very big secret from his older brother and the rest of the world. The secret is that Aberforth's daughter married and bore the sons of the Legendary Dark Knight Sparda. Just when you thought Dante only had one world-famous kinsman.

PROLOGUE: SPANNING THE YEARS

LETTER 1 -Just before DMC3, early Spring 1982

Dearest Grandson Dante,

You've only been gone for a few months, yet it feels like a year. The regulars here at the Hog's Head ask after you. Even your great-uncle Albus has inquired on your welfare.

Have you figured out a name for your shop yet? Knowing you, inspiration has yet to strike. When it does, you'll seize it with both hands, a witty remark, and a grin. Of course, you only would open a demon hunting agency in Muggle America. Needless to say, if any jobs are mentioned, I'll send them your way.

Any luck finding your brother, Vergil? I know he's probably dead, killed the same night as your mother. Still, my old heart holds hope of someday finding my other grandson. I would commission a portrait to commemorate the occasion. My grandsons under either arm and your great-aunt Ariana's portrait behind us.

Speaking of portraits, how is the photo of your mother doing? I spelled poor Eva still for the sake of your customers, but I can remove the spell anytime. I still have the photo of Eva holding you and your brother as babies. Keep it close to Ariana, I do. Your father worked the camera that time.

Dante, you know I didn't approve of Eva marrying your father at first. What father in his right mind would want his only daughter marrying a Devil, after all? But old Sparda, Devil though he was, proved his love for my daughter—your mother. He defended her honor and her person against slander and physical harm. I know you blame your father for what happened to Vergil and Eva. You blame him because he wasn't there to protect his family. He had hoped, my boy, that the demons would hunt him and overlook his wife children. He thought the demons would hollow his remaining power, if they could sense power, or his smell. I haven't heard from him, Dante, so I can only assume he died somehow along the way.

Enough of this sad talk. Tell me of your new adventure. Tell me of the foxy lady that may catch your eye. Just please write back so you don't leave an old man wondering. I worry for you, Dante. I hope to hear from you soon.

With love and concern,

Your Grandfather Aberforth

LETTER 2-Just after DMC 3, Spring 1982

Hey, Gramps.

I got your letter. Heh, I saw Vergil just before the owl dropped it off. I don't think we'll be able to get that portrait done, though. Some old librarian talked him into summoning the Evil Tower, Temin-Ne-Gru. Turns out the old guy, Arkam, had wanted to take up Sparda's sealed power. The bastard killed his own wife to attain demonic power. Anyway, Vergil was determined to finish off Mundus, or attain Dad's power, or whatever. He stayed in Hell. He actually fell off a cliff and sliced my hand when I tried to catch his wrist. At least he went out with his boots on, whichever path he chose.

You know, human hormones are bad enough, but throw in Devil instincts, and puberty's a royal Bitch. Naturally when we met, we fought to see who was stronger. Vergil has already reached his 'awakening' so he won the first round; he instigated my awakening by stabbing me with Rebellion, my own sword. So, yeah, Vergil and I just fought. No "Hey, bro! How's it hanging?" or "Wow! You're alive!" Not even, "Verge, Gramps misses you! :3" Nope. Just _clang! Clang! Kick, clang, POW! Stab! Clang._ I did admonish him for throwing out the only hot chick at the party. You know I'm a smartass first and foremost.

Oh yeah, before I forget. The twin amulets Vergil and I were given as children are the key to opening an entryway between Earth and Hell. The backs stick together like magnets. The path closes when the amulets are separated. That, Gramps, is why Verge is stuck in Hell. He has his half and I have mine. I can't help but wonder if I will recognize him if I see him again. Who knows how long he'll be there. Or what changes being there will bring to him. He was already cold and callous toward humans, but he was the same to demons in his path, too.

It's crap for luck, Gramps. I find him and he's locked himself up in the Underworld less than a week later. I know I sound like my usual cocky self, but I guess I had held some hope for him in the back of my heart. When Temin-Ne-Gru fell, I knew I'd never see Vergil, my twin, again. Not as I remembered him, at least. I looked to the sky and let it rain. Lady, Arkam's daughter, had said, "I guess even Devils may cry". Of course, I said, "It's just the rain." Nevermind the fact that the storm dissipated with the Tower's fall.

Lady, oh man, what a girl. She threw away her given name because the child that once was died when her father killed her mother. So I just call her Lady. She's a spitfire. First time I saw her, she was falling from one of the upper floors of the Tower. I caught her ankle, clad in red, knee-high lace-up boots. Tch, save her from going _splat_, and she shoots me in the head for my trouble. Women. Anyway, she uses this giant modified rocket launcher thing she calls "Kalina Anne", after her mother. Lady totes this Kalina Anne and a small arsenal of handguns on her person with ease. She's got black hair in a pixie cut, mixed-matched eyes (hereditary from her father, ugly S.O.B.), and was working the school girl look with a white button-up shirt and plaid skirt. Spandex shorts ensured the demons she was fighting didn't get a peek, me included. If she hadn't shot me in the head, twice, I might have considered making _that_ kind of move. Oh well. She gave me the idea for my shop's name: Devil May Cry. It has a nice ring to it.

Ah, money's gonna be tight. Demons knocked in the front of the shop. My jukebox might be busted for good this time. You don't want to know what they did to my drum set and stereo. Or the couch for that matter. At least the buggers didn't go upstairs. Can you believe the first wave of demons attacked me in my own shop? They killed my pizza so I was REALLY ticked. You know how I am about my pizza.

I did get some nifty to stuff to hang on my walls in the shop- *Giant grin here* Devil Arms! The guardian of the gates to the Underworld, Cerberus, as a three-way nun chuck! The succubus vampire Nevan as one hell of an electric guitar! (And boy, do I mean _electric_!) The fire storm twin blades Agni and Rudra—I threatened that if they kept talking I'd leave them behind in their Devil Arm forms; it worked for the most part. Beowulf I blinded during combat, but Vergil sealed him. I ended up collecting Beowulf as gauntlets and grieves after the Tower shifted forms. They, he, whatever wouldn't obey me, so it-they-he? Will just be decorations until Vergil comes back.

You know what really sucks? All that demon slaying and I didn't even get paid for it!

Anyway, I'm doing alright on my own, all things considered. Lady and I may start a partnership while business starts up. Gotta get the word out, ya know. If you need help with the bar, just ask okay? Right now, you're the only family I have left. I don't want you croaking by overdoing it.

-Dante.

LETTER 3-Mid-December 1982

Dear Dante,

The war against the wizard Voldemort has ended for now, and the circumstances could not be stranger or more saddening. The Potters, who had been in hiding, were betrayed by a school friend to the Dark Lord. On October thirty-first, the Dark Lord murdered first James Potter, and chased Lily up the stairs where he killed her as she shielded little Harry. Voldemort tried the Killing Curse upon the child, only to have it rebound onto himself. Somehow Harry, just over a year old, survived the attack with nothing more than a jagged scar on his brow. For whatever reason, my brother Albus, deemed it necessary for the child's Muggle aunt and family to raise him.

Now, I've heard awful things about Lily's sister and the elephant walrus she married. Granted this information comes from Severus Snape, but he grew up near the Evans family. Petunia, Lily's older sister, was jealous of dear Lily for the ability to perform magic. Her jealousy turned into hatred of all things magical. Petunia called her own sister a freak of nature, a monster. With such a reputation, why did the Muggle family get the boy? Surely a wizarding family would've accepted him graciously. Let the child be adopted by half-bloods, I say. Or even a Squib. He could have been taken in by nearly any family, so why the family who despise magic and its casters? I shudder to think of how those Muggles will treat the boy.

Yes, yes, Dante. I know Albus must be planning something that will involve the boy later. "For the Greater Good," no doubt. Hmph, just as Albus allowed that _Rat_ to be named Secret Keeper of the Fidelus Charm that protected the Potters. You and I both know that Sirius Black was as loyal as a dog—he'd die before giving up his friends. Much the same for that Remus Lupin.

The newspapers say that Sirius Black killed Peter Pettigrew, the dirty rat, and thirteen Muggles in the non-magic street. They say Black was a loyal Death Eater—one of Voldie's followers. Well, I know better. One particular Death Eater comes in fairly regular to the Hog's Head. I waited until he was quite shnockered before pouring a drop of truth serum in his drink. Boy was too drunk to know better or remember later what all he told me. Poor sod was in love with Lily, had been since they were kids. Yup, he was Severus Snape, my informant was. He'd only allow himself to cry when he was absolutely drunk. He'd pass out from drink in my bar, and I'd have the hang-over tonic ready when he awoke.

Eh, I'll end my ramblings here for now. I hope to hear from you soon.

-Love, Your Gramps.

P.S.—Severus thinks there's a chance Pettigrew's alive in Rat form. He's an unregistered Animagus, according to Snape.

LETTER 4-After DMC2

Dear Gramps,

I just finished an interesting job. Thought you might want to hear about it. You see. I get a call to go to a museum afterhours. When I get there, a hot redhead gave me details for the job. Pfft, not quite that easy. She stole a medallion-like coin and used a dagger as an 'x' on a map for the job's location. I got in my cardiovascular exercise, running all over that damn town.

And wouldn't you know it—the guy trying to gain demonic power found a way around joining the amulets to open a gateway to Hell. Not to mention the curvy redhead, Lucia, discovered the bad guy tried to make his own demonic servants and that she was a failed attempt. Lucia was 'raised' by Mattiere, an old crone from a clan devoted to upholding Sparda's goal and achievement.

Sorry, Gramps. No sign of Vergil. But I did fight a damned big chimera of a demon—several Devils fused so that it's just their heads facing different directions. That was a doozy; fun, but a doozy.

Well, this mission proved that I've matured some since I last visited you at the Hog's Head. Lucia, having found out about her origins, begged me to kill her. She was scared that she would turn evil and attack humans. She was so desperate, she actually shed tears. I told her Devils and demons don't cry, that only those with human hearts cry. So long as she had her human heart, I didn't need to kill her. I think if a hellgate wasn't yawning just ahead of us, Lucia would have hugged me. Oooooh, Gramps! She's busty, small waist, wide hips, shapely legs, dark skin like coffee with a splash of cream, and true red hair over one shoulder in a braid. Not to mention her wonderous accent. I can't pinpoint it to a nationality, but my libido perked as she talked.

…Eeeeeeewwwwwwwwiiiieeee! I just wrote that in a letter to my grandpa. Ugh, not kosher. At least I know where to find her if I need backup. Did I mention she can Devil Trigger? She's white and feathery, and elegant. Hmm. It might be interesting to introduce you two.

I just thought of something: Gramps, please don't tell Great-Uncle Albus about Lucia. Somehow I think he'd try to use her, manipulate her "for the Greater Good". Just as he uses Severus Snape as his pawn.

You know, Gramps, I feel sorry for that guy. I mean Albus has Snape wrapped around his little bony finger. As if the greasy hair wasn't a curse in of itself. Hey, I bet I can ask Nevan for her hair-care secrets on poor Severus's behalf. Hell, if I show her a picture of him, she may give him the spa treatment herself. … If she doesn't eat him. It's nearly impossible to tell which way she'll go most of the time.

Anyhow, take care of yourself. You get some seedy folks in your joint, Gramps. If you some bartending muscle with a witty repituar, you know who to call. Either me or Lady. There'd be less property damage if you called me. Lady has a happy trigger finger and a short temper.

-Dante

LETTER 5-Year 4's end, Summer 1994

Dear Grandson,

Another letter bearing somber news, my boy. The Tri-Wizard Tournament transpired this year with Hogwarts hosting. The Potter boy was entered by someone powerful enough to Confund the Goblet of Fire into thinking four schools competed.

You'd think that having Alastor "Mad Eye" Moody as DADA teacher would solve more problems than just a vacancy in the staff. But no, the baddie impersonated Moody, using Polyjuice Potion. Alastor was found in naught but his skivvies in the very bottom compartment of his trunk. The imposter had Confunded the Goblet, entered Potter's name, and ensured the boy succeeded in the Tournament. All this by a man who supposedly died in Azkaban. He even killed his own father. Barty Crouch, Junior, worked and wormed the Dark Lord's will. Junior's in custody now; received the Dementor's Kiss, he did.

Ah, Hogwarts had two champions, due to Junior's meddling. Harry Potter, of course, was one of Hogwart's champions—Gryffindor House. The other was a promising Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff. Durnstrang was represented by Quiddich star Vicktor Krum. Beauxbaton's chamption was a Miss Fleur Delacour—she's part Veela. Va-va-voom! However, the final task is what brought disaster.

Hagrid, the warm-hearted half-giant grounds keeper, set the maze. The winner would have to pass through the shifting maze, thwart the other champions, and grasp theTri-Wizard Cup at the center of the maze. Both Cedric Diggory and Harry Potter grasped the Cup as a joint victory for Hogwarts—and were transported to a graveyard.

Junior had made the Cup a portkey to send the "winner" right into the hands of what was left of Voldemort. The Diggory boy was downed by the Killing Curse, life snuffed from him faster than he could blink. That RAT! The Rat performed a ritual to revive the Dark Lord, to restore his body.

Somehow, perhaps by a small miracle, the Potter boy managed to escape with Diggory's body in tow. They were dirtied and bloodied, but the Rat cut Potter to use his blood in the ritual. That's when Junior was outed. Dante, my grandson, my dear boy. These events trouble me greatly. So much so fast to one so young. I see Potter much like I see Ariana. Another innocent to suffer. I don't believe for one second that Potter killed Diggory. I was there, in the stands close to the front. I saw the way he clung to that body in desperation. "He told me to bring him back," the boy sobbed, clutching white-knuckled to yellow and brown jersey. "I had to bring him back."

The worst of all, Dante, was that the Ministry, led by that dunder-head Fudge, is trying to say—is saying—that Potter killed Diggory. As if the boy didn't already have enough people gawking at him. His first year had him chasing the Sorcerer's Stone. Second year, the Chamber of Secrets opened and he discovered he's a Parselmouth (able to talk to snakes). Third year saw Sirius Black escape from Azkaban in a bid to kill Peter Pettigrew. And now, the Ministry of Magic and the gossip rags are accusing him of murder. If it weren't for Junior's confession, after truth serum of course, the boy would be up on charges.

You may be called upon one day in service to my brother. Whether for the school or for Potter's protection, I cannot say. As you mentioned in a previous letter, of Albus using your friend Lucia if he knew of her, I fear he would try to use you "for the Greater Good". I hope the phrase, "out of sight, out of mind" applies here. Although, I do tell Severus of your adventures. Before he gets too shnockered, needless to say. He listens with fascination of a child. He swears that he has not told Albus these stories. Ahem, the truth serum confirms, just in case.

I fear your enthralling excursions are Severus's only means of entertainment. As such, I hope you write soon.

-Aberforth Dumbledore

P.S.—As the kids say these days, "Air Hug". I don't really understand it, but it sounds cute.

LETTER 6-Year 5, January 1995

Dear Dante,

It was lovely having you visit this holiday break. I'm sure your Grandfather Aberforth enjoyed your company.

I do admit I was surprised when I saw you after all these years, my boy. My great-nephew has grown into a truly impressive man. By physical size and boundless confidence, you are sure to lure in a lucky lady.

I do, however, find that my brother neglected to tell me of your profession. I hadn't thought to ask while you visited Hogsmeade. Judging by your stature and build, it must be quite vigorous. Perhaps you could give an old man some tips on staying in shape, yes?

I do hope you enjoy the polishing kit. I heard mention of a vast collection of weaponry decorating the walls of your home. The kit should give these items a magnificent gleam.

Ah, I must thank you, Dante, for the thoughtful gift of cookbooks. The House Elves of Hogwarts were just itching to try something new. They scoured through the books as soon as I delivered them. The illustrations really seemed to make their day. I do believe the students will enjoy the new dishes as much as the House Elves enjoy making them.

Take care, my great-nephew. I hope to hear from you at your earliest convenience.

-Albus Dumbledore

LETTER 7-Year 5, January 1995

Dear Gramps,

Thanks for the wall-mounts for my Devil Arms. Between the new mounts and the polishing kit Great-Uncle Albus gave me, those Devils are going to shine like new. How'd you like that bottle of honey whiskey?

Albus wrote to me after I got back to my shop. Basically he realized he had no idea what I do for a living.

I met Severus Snape again. Heh, I asked Nevan about her hair-care secrets before I visited. I showed her a picture of Sev, and she spilled like a split bag of rice. I followed her instructions on Snape's head. I didn't look, but I think Snape got a pup-tent, judging by the way he reacted. I won't go into details. The guy has a good head of hair; he's just so stressed that the oil glands in his scalp go into overtime. I tussled he hair dry with a towel, and he was fit for a men's shampoo commercial. And damn it all, if it wasn't oily again as he walked in with Albus just after dinner. The way Snape held his left forearm suggest that he was playing double-agent again. Great-Uncle Albus is going to be the death of that man, one way for another. I'm a little afraid to check Severus's blood pressure.

I, ah, was shirtless when I washed Sev's hair. During a period where his eyes were focused, he noticed and commented on my nicely muscled torso. Not many wizards keep up physical training, after all. Apparently the scalp message loosens him up not dissimilarly to booze. Relaxed to near stupor, he breathed a question and did something I know he'd do otherwise. How a wizard got a body like mine, he asked as he lazily held a hand to my flexing pectoral. If he weren't half out of it, I'd have thought it was a come on.

Somehow, the idea of a flirty Snape is a lot less nauseating than that Pink Woman. I wanted to gag her with dirty socks. Why, dear Gods, did she follow Albus down from the school? If she made one more half-breed remark, I'm not sure I wouldn't have Devil Triggered on her toady self.

Oh, goody. I hear demons outside. Something to vent the pent up violence on.

-Dante

LETTER 8-Year 5's end, Summer 1995

Hey, Gramps.

I saw in the Wizarding paper that Voldie-warts made a comeback. That he actually had balls enough to show up at the Ministry of Magic. I bet Fudge fudged his pants. I heard rumor that the Order of the Pheonix lost a member that night. My condolences to those who walk through your door that are affected.

It's almost hard to believe that the war against that SOB went on pause for what? Fourteen years? Wow, it's been so long since I visited you. Would you object if I came across the Pond for a little vacation? I can help with the bar, do some maintenance and repair, and entertain your customers. It'll be like have a useful Guilderoy Lockheart, except my stories are true. You and Great-Uncle Albus are getting on in your years. We don't know how much time you old guys have left, so best to make the most of it.

-Dante

LETTER 9-End of Year 6, early Summer 1996

My Dear Grandson,

Disaster has struck again. Your Great-Uncle Albus was killed. I'm afraid I must summon you to attend his funeral. Also, I'll need assistance running the Hog's Head for a little while. I've not been at my best since I heard the news.

Severus Snape delivered the Killing Curse upon Albus. Of course, I can't be too angry with Severus, as he was following Albus's orders. My foolish brother had tried to wear a cursed item for the power supposedly within the item before the curse was placed. I know of my brother's last scheme. To collect and destroy the objects that Voldie attached portions of his filthy soul—a Horcrux. The paranoid fool that is Lord Voldemort make a Horcrux of a legendary Hallow, the Resurrection Stone. Of course, Voldie had no idea of its original power; the Stone was fitted into a ring generations ago and was considered a family heirloom of the Gaunts. A nasty family, the Gaunts.

Ah, but Albus stuck that ring upon his finger, and Severus put all the skill he could muster into keeping the curse contained in one hand. Severus knows that I am Albus's younger brother, and that you are my grandson. Most people don't realize Albus and I are even kin, so that you are his great-nephew is almost completely unknown.

Please, grandson, do not blame Severus. Albus only had a short time allotted to him after donning the cursed ring, as contained as it was. A year at the most. Come to Albus's funeral and I shall inform you of all I know about Albus's grand scheme "for the Greater Good".

With all the love this old heart can give,

Your Gramps.

LETTER 10-Year 6, early Summer 1996

Gramps!

I'm only my way to the Hog's Head now. I'm gonna be even further in debt to Lady for the strings she's pulling for me, but I'll worry about that later.

Obviously, I got your last letter. As old as you two are, I was starting to suspect you both partook of the Sorceror's Stone. Crap, I didn't expect Uncle Albus to die. Crap and double crap! What do you wear to a Wizarding funeral anyway!

Lady's looking at me like I've lost my mind. No, Lady, I'm not talking to myself. There's a Quicknotes Quill going to town in the corner. Yes, it's writing what I say all on its own. No, it's not Devil Powers. It's human magic. … Yes, human magic, like witches and wizards and all that. Look, Lady! I'm trying to pack here! I've gotta attend a funeral across the ocean. Now give me some PRIVACY!

Sorry, Gramps. Lady's being pushy today. I'll see you soon, but hopefully you'll get this letter sooner.

-Dante

LETTER 11-Excerpt from the _Daily Prophet_, a Wizarding Newspaper, Early Summer, 1996

The lake at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has seen much over the years. Countless generations of young witches and wizards have ridden across its surface in their first year and walked around its edge during schooling. The lake saw the Second Task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament three years ago. And on this day, the lake at Hogwarts bears witness to one of the most unfortunate of occasions.

Hogwarts's teachers and students, Hogmeade's shopkeepers and residents, and general fans and well-wishers gathered on the shore of the lake. Some sat upon chairs in an orderly fashion, some stood in groups, and others huddled together on blankets spread out upon the grass. The mood is tense and crushing. Weeping echoes from nearly every group. The grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry have rarely been so forlorn. For on this day, a legend of magic has come to an end, and those gathered came to bid it farewell.

After serving as Headmaster for thirty-two years, and a teacher for forty-six years before that, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was interred to the school's grounds forever more. The last rights of the dead were read at the lakeside as a tomb of white marble formed around the late Headmaster's body. Flowers of all descriptions were lovingly set about the new monument by mourners.

Few of the attendees were up for commenting. Among the few was the assistant barkeep of the Hog's Head. "Albus Dumbledore was a living relic of a time passed. He fought the good fight against the two most notorious Dark Wizards in recent history. The fight's not over, and won't be over until Moldy-Voldie's head is spitted on a stick." When asked if that was a personal challenge to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the man grinned, "If he wants to pick a fight with me over a little petty name calling, he'll have to get in line. I tick off a lot of folks; personality quirk of mine."

Another comment over the occasion came from the Weasley twins, Fred and George. "Quite a shock," began one, then the other finished, "and a tragedy." Together they said, "The leader is dead, but the Order still lives on." The twins refused to elaborate on this 'Order' before rejoining with the rest of their attending family members.

As expected the Boy-Who-Lived was in attendance, as this is his sixth year at Hogwarts. Silent tears streaked down his face, along with other Gryffindors around him. Harry Potter declined to comment.

A Ravenclaw fifth year, recognized as Luna Lovegood, commented on, of all the things, the weather. "Lovely weather for today. I'm sure Professor Dumbledore would appreciate it. Everyone's sad enough without rain or overcast clouds adding to the gloom. Don't you agree?"

Pansy Parkinsan of Slytherin House held her chin high. "Most of Slytherin House thought it was time for Professor Dumbledore to retire. I'm sure most everyone regrets how he chose to vacate his seat of Headmaster. There's a rumor going about that he jumped from the highest tower, you see."

Professor Minevra McGonagal shall step in as Acting Headmistress for the remainder of the year. She dabbed her eyes, "I shall strive to run this school as Albus would. May he rest in peace."

Professor Rubeus Hagrid, groundskeeper and teacher of Care of Magical Creatures, was unable to comment past his great sobs of grief.

As the essembly of mourners broke up to make their leave, only a small handful of individuals remained close to the tomb, apparently hoping for semi-private farewells. The owner of the Hog's Head pub and the assistant barman were among them. Finally, when they were the last two, the elder pulled a bottle of Japanese sake from his robes and poured it over the head of the tomb, "So you may never be thirsty." He burned incense at the foot of the marble, "So your air always be sweet." The younger man pulled a bit of violet silk from his leather attire; he removed the blanket of flowers from the stone before spreading the silk across the tomb's chest area. The ancient crest of the Legendary Dark Knight Sparda was centered on the silk was soon covered by the flowers. "So you shall never be cold." Then they knelt by the graveside and the younger man led prayer in a foreign tongue.

I left the lakeside with a heavy heart, much like others who had gathered on this day. One last look over my shoulder, at the two men kneeling beside the white marble tomb, and I remembered a detail previously unnoticed: Albus Dumbledore had a younger brother. While Albus had been in the spotlight most of his life, little is known about his last known living kin, Aberforth. The sun has not yet set, so perhaps Aberforth will visit his brother before the day is out. Perhaps death will mend their fractured relationship, and bring closure to the last Dumbledore.

-fin—John W. Finnigan

LETTER 12-Early Summer 1996

Dear Gramps,

I'm writing to let you know I made it back to my shop, no missing limbs or anything. That portkey—man, that felt weird. Anyway, I'm gonna unpack in a few minutes. I've got to call Lady, let her know I'm back.

I read the copies of the _Prophet_ that were delivered while I was away. Heh, we were mentioned by that reporter, Finnigan. He actually got my quote right—I'm surprised. What really surprised me was that he didn't know your name. Seriously. I guess you meant to keep a low profile; you sure accomplished that one. I bet Snape read it and face-palmed, hard. It's weird how Finnigan recognized the crest of Sparda but didn't question the significance. Oh, well.

Rest up, Gramps. I've got a feeling it's going to get hectic soon.

-Dante

LETTER 13-Midsummer, 1996

Heya, Gramps.

I've got good news and bad news. The bad news is a powerful Devil tried to enter the Human World, aided by a butler of all things. The good news is the summoning was stopped before a human sacrifice could be made. And here's the kicker! The Devil sent a lackey to squeeze between the 'barrier', right? Well, the lackey decided he liked the world just as it is. He helped to capture the butler and save the man of the manor (who was supposed to be the human sacrifice).

Ah, Gramps. It gets better. So lackey takes on human form to explore our side of the gate, and he comes across this well-dressed clutz who sprung her ankle or something. (Dramatic Pause…Wait for it) Lackey heals the girl! A demon with healing powers! And the girl, as it turns out, is the rich man's daughter. So, at first Money-bags Daddy doesn't approve of his little darling seeing someone dressed so shabbily, but he gives the okay after Lackey helps to save his life from the greedy butler.

This part makes me smile just thinking about it. The lackey approached me a little later. He's fallen in love with the human girl, she loves him back, and her pops gave his blessing. The lackey asked me if he could stay to live as a human. As long as his hear is that of a human, I told him, he can live with humans. Besides, his old master would eat him slowly for his betrayal.

So far as I know, they're doing all right. Plus, Money-bags Daddy paid me for my services. Oh, Yeah! Happy ending and pay day! Lackey, who took on the oh-so-common name 'Bradley', was allowed to move in with his sweetie and her pops.

Not sure if I've mentioned this before, but there's been this kid that likes to hang around my shop. Patty Lowell is her name. Honestly, I'd ban her from my shop if demons didn't seem to follow her around. Somehow, that kid manages to get herself into all kinds of danger. Wish me luck keeping this half-pint alive.

-Dante

LETTER 14-DMC 1, Early Autumn 1996

Hey, Gramps.

I've got a big job, out at Mallet Island. I don't know how long it's going to take, so if you need anything, send an owl to Lady.

You won't believe how I was propositioned for this job, Gramps. This hot blonde in black leather busts in my door with a motorcycle and fights me. She said she had to test my skill before offering the details. Her cleavage is like the Grand Canyon in the U.S.A.—deep plunge.

Well, I'm off to hunt demons and follow a hot blonde around a deserted island. I'll write when I get back.

-Dante

LETTER 15—During DMC 1, Early Autumn 1996

Dear Miss Lady:

I am Dante's grandfather. He said that if I needed assistance while he's away on the Mallet Island job, to contact you. I understand that you and Dante are Devil Hunters. This request of mine is not related to your chosen field of employment.

You see, Miss Lady, I run the pub The Hog's Head. It's in the wizarding town of Hogsmeade (before you ask, I don't know why it's called that). I am aniticipating a rush of customers by the end of next week, and I expect the increased flow to last several weeks. To be blunt, I need an assistant barkeep. I will train you in the time before the rush if it proves necessary.

I have taken the initiative to attach a portkey. It is the broken ring inside the ringbox. Simply touch a finger to it when you are ready to leave. You will need a firm grip on your personal items to bring them with you. To travel by portkey is faster and less expensive than the Muggle—er, Non-magical—airlines.

Thank you in advance.

-Aberforth Dumbledore, Owner of the Hog's Head.

LETTER 16-Sticky Note Upon Dante's Desk, During DMC 1, Early Autumn 1996

Dante—

I'm going to wrap my hands around that meaty neck of yours and squeeze for all I'm worth next time I see you. Who the HELL do you think you are, volunteering me for some bar job! And why didn't you tell me your grandfather was still alive?

Arg. Anyway, I'm going to help him at his bar. No reason for the old guy to suffer just because you're a jerk. Sheesh, I don't know the first thing about bartending.

One more thing—why the HELL! Was his letter delivered by an OWL! I nearly shot it before I realized it wasn't a demon.

-Lady D:

LETTER 17-Just after DMC 1, Early Autumn 1996

Hi, Gramps! Hey, Lady (if you're still there)!

I just got back from the Mallet Island job. Friggin' A, man. The hot blonde in the black leather turned out to be a pawn of the Underworld King, Mundus. The sick bastard made her to look like Mom. Mundus had defeated Vergil all those years ago and brainwashed him into a puppet. I didn't realize it was Vergil until he dropped his half of the amulet. I can only assume Mundus used Vergil's memories of Mom to create Trish (hot blonde).

Unfortunately for Mundus, he made Trish too close to Mom from Verge's memories. She turned against him to help me. Trish took a blow for me, one I'm not sure even I would have survived. I left the joined amulets and Sparda's sword next to her body, and I went to face the most powerful Devil. Lo and behold, Trish joins me in facing Mundus again, and we escaped on a friggin' biplane!

I got some spiffy Devil Arms during the trip. The sword of Vengeance, Alastor, for example. He only serves those who survive him piercing their hearts. Yeah, that sucked. And it hurt a little. …Okay, it hurt more than a little. He's a lightning type.

Oh, yeah. Trish doesn't have anywhere to go. So, well, she's going to stay with me at least until she can support herself and whatnot. After seeing how much she looks like Mom and how she came to be, I can't help but to think of her like a younger sister I didn't know I had.

-Dante

LETTER 18-After DMC1, Autumn 1996

Dear Dante,

Your friend Lady came to help me at the Hog's Head. It was fun teaching her how to bartend. She's a quick learner. Gave a number of my lewder customers a tongue-lashing, she did. It earned her some respect, standing up for herself. Ah, but she did pull a gun on one man who'd grabbed her bum. No one died during her stay, at least.

I hope you don't mind, but I told her about your mum and your younger days. Lady is a good listener, Dante. You've got yourself a good friend in her. Ah, dear lass didn't know much about the wizarding world. I figured, if she can successfully fight demons from the Underworld, why not explain the human magic? Well, order of secrecy be damned, because I told her.

Anyway, Snape is still playing the double agent. I had a feeling your great-uncle was up to something. Even death can't stop his scheming, and certainly not while his moving and talking portrait is in the Headmaster's office. Snape has been appointed Headmaster of Hogwarts, and Voldie apparently decreed that the Carrow siblings be appointed teachers. Foolishness if you ask me. But Snape still visits on occation, and I see the toll this new strain puts upon him. Even he says the Carrows are insane and evil, hardly fit to be considered human. Regardless, he must play his part of a devoted Death Eater.

Harry Potter has the good sense to stay away from the school, at the least. Voldie has placed his people inside the Ministry of Magic. Potter is now considered "Undesirable Number 1", according to the toad woman, Delores Umbridge. You remember Delores, yes? The pink-clad harpy with the half-breed comments that you nearly Devil Triggered on? Yes, her. She's been elevated to the Minister's Secretary or some such. Since her prejudices support Voldie's ideals and goals, he's allowing her to do as she pleases. The world is in a sad state of affairs when Delores gets her way. Snape isn't nearly as bad on one of his crankier days, I tell you.

Well, that's the news from my side of the Pond. Take care of yourself, Dante. And take care of that new girl, Trish.

-Your Gramps

LETTER 19-Beginning of DMC 4, Year 7

Hey, Gramps.

Trish and I are going on a particular job as a favor to Lady. A group called The Order of The Sword has been messing with her jobs lately. Supposedly, the Order of the Sword hails from the town of Fortuna, and according to their local legend, Sparda served as a feudal lord over a hundred years ago. According to Lady, the townsfolk worship Sparda like a god. Odd choice of patron deity, if you ask me.

I've got a gut feeling that this gig's going to be interesting. What kind of interesting, I don't know. For some reason though, Trish took Sparda's sword and left a note in its place, "See you there (insert heart)."

I'd better get a move on, Gramps. I'll let you know how it goes.

-Dante

LETTER 20—After DMC4, Year 7

You're not gonna believe this, Gramps.

The job that was supposed to be a simple favor for Lady? Yeah, it turned into closing not one, not two, but three separate Hellgates. Wait, no—FOUR separate Hellgates! AND stopping the mastermind behind it. I had to fight a statue so tall, I only reached the upper ankle. The statue was supposed to have been a likeness to Sparda, but it didn't look like him at all.

Trish gussied herself up and infiltrated the Order of the Sword. Racy outfit (looked more like lingerie) and called herself 'Gloria'. A wig and contacts helped to make her look not like Mom; rub-on tanner too.

The mastermind of the Hellgates was the leader of the Order of the Sword, Sanctus. He was like their pope or something. His minion scientist was forcing demonic "souls" into the Order's foot soldier guys and suits of armor. Credo, the general guy of the Order, was more or less fooled into believing that the possessed guys and armor were Sparda's blessing. Of course, he may not have known where the extra strength came from. He died trying to save his sister and his unruly subordinate.

This is the part that has my brain in a knot. The subordinate is apparently a descendant of Sparda. This kid, Nero, looks just like Verge and I did at his age. He even has my cocky attitude to go with the looks. His right arm is a trip—demonic red, leathery armor with glow-stick blue veining. It's one of those "gotta see it to believe it" things. Kid's left is normal, just a little more than human strength. By the end of this fiasco, the Kid had his "awakening", thus allowing him to Devil Trigger, and he'd gained Vergil's sword, Yamato.

Let me set this straight before you jump to conclusions, Gramps. I had a vasectomy at least a year before this kid was born (asked his girlfriend his age and birthday). I check back with the doctors periodically to make sure I'm still firing blanks, so I know I didn't father this Nero. I can't vouch for Vergil's chastity, though. His reasoning was that he and I were likely mules, infertile. For now, though, I'm just going to assume the Kid's my nephew.

He's a good kid, Gramps. Nero went through Hell and back, figuratively, to save the damsel in distress. The girl's name is Kyrie (key-ri-ay), and she's Credo's younger sister. Somehow, I have a feeling she's going to break Nero's heart. Unintentionally, of course; she's a sweet girl. From what I can tell, the Kid's the type who would push away those he loved if he thought they would be safer. Pfft, push them away but still watch over them. The Protective Stalker.

Well, Gramps, I'll wrap it up for now. Keep your head up and far from the chopping block.

-Dante

LETTER 21-After DMC 4, Early Spring 1997

Dearest Grandson,

Wow. I may have a great-grandson. As the children write now, "O.O", for surprised face. There's a spell that can reveal one's ancestry. All you'd need is a long scroll of parchment (any grade will do as long as it is one sheet), a large inkpot, a Quickquill, and a little blood from the selected descendant. In this case, Nero. The spell is fairly simple; you may even be able to perform it.

Oh, before I forget. Snape asked a favor to replay to you. The Dememtors are patrolling the school's grounds, but have been edging a bit too close. There are a number more than he thought necessary, so if you would "thin" their numbers, it would be greatly appreciated. I'm not sure if Dementors fall under your jurisdiction as a Devil Hunter, but I'd ask at least.

There's a good chance that the war against Voldie will spill onto the school grounds. Oh! Don't say his name! Moldie Voldie has created as spell of his name that to speak it is to break down any and all protective charms around you and send a signal to those who hunt any that oppose him! Do have a care, Grandson, and do not speak his name.

-Aberforth


	2. Pest Control

Salutations, Readers! I hope you enjoyed the prologue. Fear not, for the letter format was intended only to anchor the two timelines to one another. This chapter is in Dante's POV, and I hope I succeded in keeping it in his character.

Special Thanks to Blood Everlasting, my encouraging Beta; Naruto fan 99 as the first to Favorite this story; and Random Person 94 as my first Reviewer. There was someone who is Following this fic, but I'm still trying to figure out this site from the Author's perspective.

Obvious disclaimer of I don't own them, only this particular storyline. DMC belongs to CAPCOM, and Harry Potter to Ms. Rowling.

.-^_^-.

I arrived in Hogsmeade just a little before sunset. Death Eaters patrolled the streets, talking about a curfew. One strolled up to me, the look on his face smug.

"Oi, yeh big bloke. Curfew's soon to come, so yeh best to be headin' home." He was fingering the handle of his wand as if that were a threat to me.

I decided to humor him a moment. "Just come to visit my grandfather. He runs the Hog's Head up the street a bit. But, hey, maybe you can answer me this..."

The guy puffed up, trying to look bigger than he really was. He was a good head shorter than me, about as big around in the chest, but it was fat, not muscle. He gripped his wand as if I were intimidating, and I wasn't even trying to be.

"Where did you get those shoes?" I inclined my head down for emphasis.

He blinked his beady eyes, obviously expecting something else. "Oh, these?" He lifted the hem of his robes to further reveal the oh-so-glossy Gucci loafers that were straining at the sides to contain his wide fatty feet. "Killed a Muggle the other day, and lifted these off 'im."

"Ah," I rocked on my heels. I noticed the Death Eater eyeing my red cowboy boots. "These babies were a gift from one of my business partners," I said as I tilted my foot to show the sides better. "Took a while to get used to the heel, but they broke in pretty well."

The fat little mam smiled at me with blackened teeth. "So good to talk to another man who appreciates the finer things. You'd better head to the bar before curfew, friend, lest there be trouble."

I let him walk past me before I turned. Quick as lightning, I had a hand on his pudgy chin, the other on his shoulder. A slight jerk in opposite directions, and his neck was broken enough to kill but not enough to be obvious as the cause of death. I held him up by the grip on his shoulder while I glanced around. No one was watching, so I heaved this no-name scum down a dark alley to land as he may.

Normally, I don't kill humans as a general rule. But all rules have exceptions and loopholes. Serial killers, sociopaths, and humans who welcome demon-kind into themselves are on my Okay-To-Kill list. To me, these types stopped being human long ago. The Death Eater that now lay down the alley fell into categories one and two, serial killer and sociopath, to be able to talk of killing another human so casually.

I resisted the urge to wipe my hands on my pants. Touching that guy left the feeling of contamination. I casually strode toward my gramp's bar. I got there without being stopped again.

The chime sounded as I opened the door. "Curfew's comin' so no more customers today!" hollered Gramps. His glasses were thick and grimy; his hair loose, stringy, and in need of a wash; and his clothes a little wrinkled. In short, he was as he always was during work hours.

"Hey, Gramps," I cajoled. "You called about a job for me?"

He turned with a smile on his haggard face. "Dante, my boy!" Gramps came around the bar and collected me for a hug. "I wasn't expecting you so soon."

I shrugged. "Dementors aren't something to be toyed with. What's with this curfew business, Gramps?"

"Ah," he stepped away and sat heavily onto a chair near a scratched table. "The Death Eaters are imposing martial law here in Hogsmeade. Voldie seems to think the Potter boy will come here eventually. Anyone who breaks curfew will get hexed or worse, the Dementor's Kiss

I spent the night catching up with Gramps. He informed me of all the Wizarding goings-on, and I told him about some recent jobs. We discussed the Kid, Nero, my maybe-nephew. We talked about the weather, and pub-goers, and some booze Gramps was experimenting with.

Sunrise saw the curfew lifted for the day and Gramps and I passed out in his living room. Ten A.M. and we were grudgingly awake, what with Gramps having to prepare for customers. Noon found me surrounded by Dementors.

My trusted partners, Ebony and Ivory, were warm in my hands despite the chill from the Dementors. Rebellion hung on my back, eagerly awaiting his turn to rend these creatures to sand. Twenty after twelve and I'd eliminated seven Dementors. See, their downfall is that they force our most painful memories to the surface of our minds. Losing Mom and Virgil, finding Virgil only to lose him again, and again. Yeah, that just makes me fight harder. Those memories bring out more of my Devil blood than anything else. I battled them half-Triggered. Thus, they lost pathetically. When I calmed down, I said a short prayer for the swallowed souls just released.

Twelve-thirty crept up as I mounted the stairs at the entrance of Hogwarts. I followed my nose to the dining hall. I had paused at the door to survey the room. Four long as hell tables went the length of the humongous room. A fifth table sat perpendicular to the other four. Hundreds of students turned away from their conversations and lunches to stare at me.

With a lurch, I marched toward that fifth table where the adults sat at the other end of the room. Even from this far back, I could recognize poor Severus Snape. The stress of having Death Eaters in the school, being Headmaster, _and_ triple agent were not kind on him. I had half a mind to summon a beauty parlor's chair and sink setup to wash his hair in the Great Hall.

A strict-looking woman with a severe bun frowned at me suspiciously. A pair of what could only be siblings eyed me up, apparently trying to decide if I'd be an asset or a pain in the ass. Other professors looked on with either curiosity, apprehension, or a combination of the two. Snape just raised an eyebrow sardonically.

I waited until I was at least halfway to the teachers' table before trying to talk. The whispers of the students echoed as I leisurely strode between the red table and the blue.

"Oi, Snape," I raised my hand in greeting. "Gramps said you may have a job for me." I paused both my speech and my steps as I glanced over the seated children. Then I resumed walking and resumed talking. "He said you could use a little help with pest control around the property line. Guard dogs getting a little too bold, he said." I gave a smile that tended to scare children, standing maybe a meter from the staff table.

Snape had watched me wearily. "I assume you mean to offer your services?" He seemed to sniff haughtily, "I have already arranged a—pest control."

As if on cue, the door to my left opened on well-oiled hinges. I was speechless as the Kid walked out and froze at the sight of me. After a brief pause, my shit-eating smile came online. "What are you doing here, Kid? I thought you'd be spending more time with that girl in Fortuna—the damsel."

Nero broke out of his shock. "Her name is Kyrie, and I'm here because I've been hired for a particular task. What are _you_ doing here, Old Man?"

I cut my eyes back toward Severus. "Offering my services for a certain type of pest control. Have you started your task yet?"

The Kid shifted his weight. "Not yet. Seen the pests yet, Dante?"

"Yep. Already put down a few, too. Nasty buggers, those. They bring to mind the worst things imaginable."

Many of the teachers had caught onto my code at 'property line'. Nero's look of confusion said he knew I was here to kill stuff but didn't know what. "Do you mean like Hellgates?" he asked almost innocently.

The bun lady cleared her throat. "You, sir," she stared at me incredulously, "claim to have slain the …nuisances?"

My answering grin held dark humor. "They tried to_ swallow_ me whole on my way to the castle. Breath mints wouldn't do them much good."

A small man, and I mean _tiny_, snorted and converted what would have been some chuckling with coughing. Unconvincing coughing.

Severus turned his black eyes from me to Nero and back again. "The two of you are acquainted?" It was only a question due to the slight up-tilt of his voice at the end.

Nero shrugged. "We've met."

I smirked. "I'm pretty sure he's my nephew. Surely you've noticed the resemblance."

"As apparent as the Weasely family," remarked a wide-built witch in earthy hues, her tone gently amused. A collective giggle-chuckle consumed the Great Hall for the span of a minute or two.

The Kid shifted his weight as he scratched the back of his neck with his human hand. I noticed he wore the sling to hide the Devil Bringer just as he had when we first met. His eyes scanned the room, the tight lines of his face showing his discomfort at the attention. _Pfft_, Kid could fight hordes of demons all day long and go with confidence and swagger, but seemed to suffer stage fright in front of human children. Go figure.

I could practically see the gears turning in Snape's head. His mind always ran pretty fast, especially when sober, so mere seconds passed before he decided whatever he had been debating. "I would ask that our guests take seats and join us for lunch. There are things to be discussed after the meal." Severus took his seat in a large ornate chair at the center of the teacher's table.

The staff table was filled. That left sitting with the students. I slowly turned to face the kids. The Bronze table gaped at us. The Red table gaped, but in more of a 'they look cool' way than 'Holy crap, they're scary' way. The Blues gaped in a 'who and what are they' way. The Greens eyes us as if estimating our worth.

By the time my gaze came back to the Reds, spaces had appeared in several places. Taking the invitation, Nero and I sat at the Red table. Extra place settings popped into existence before us. The Kid visibly jumped and glanced at me as if daring me to comment on the flinch.

I shook my head, reminding myself that Nero was raised unconventionally but Muggle. "Food's safe, Kid. I'll explain later, but for now," I grinned, "tuck in!" With that, I served myself generously. I actually had to swallow the building saliva to avoid drool running down my chin.

We chatted with some of the nearby students. Mostly, the kiddies were curious about our weapons. Ebony and Ivory were very visible in their holsters at the back of my coat. Rebellion, my Medieval-styled sword, stood out worse than a sore thumb; it stuck to my back without an obvious sheath. Nero wasn't much better with his custom-made Red Queen sword at his back and the dual-barreled Blue Rose at his left hip. The Kid looked stumped when the students asked which school of magic we attended. I answered, "Private tutoring," for the both of us.

Finally the lunch break finished, and the kiddies all marched off to class. Nero twitched hard as all the food and dishes that had lined the tables just suddenly weren't there. He followed me back to the teachers' table without comment. Most of the faculty had already left, leaving us with Snape and Severe-Bun-Lady. Severus stood at our approach, as did the woman.

"Devil Hunter Nero from the Order of the Sword," the dark-haired man drawled, "and Dante Dumbledore."

The woman gave me wide eyes at my name. The Kid scrunched his eyebrows in confusion at me, "I thought your name was Dante Sparda?"

It still boggles me how Fortuna is such a naïve city despite worshipping a Devil as a god. I shrugged. "If I'm Devil Hunting, it's Sparda. For Wizarding matters, I use my mother's maiden name." Another shrug, "Sometimes."

"Are you of any relation to Albus Dumbledore?" the witch asked, surprise still evident in her voice.

My voice was low as I replied, "He was my great-uncle. Aberforth is my grandfather on my mother's side."

The witch nodded her comprehension as Snape cleared his throat. "Minerva, do you believe there to be enough funds to hire both of these men to eradicate the bold pests? The ones at the property line?"

Minerva looked us over with a critical eye. "Perhaps we can afford the extra, Severus. As Headmaster, it is your decision."

Snape's gaze tried to bore a hole into me. I felt a pressure against my mental defenses. "Just what, pray tell, do you do for a living, Dante?"

"I'm a Devil Hunter. Didn't we just cover that?" I dropped the playfulness. "I've already killed some of the Dementors out there. Kid," I jerked my thumb at Nero, "probably doesn't have experience with them yet. Both of us, working together, means he'll learn without the risk of being overwhelmed." Nero gave an indignant huff, but I plowed on. "Those things dredge up our most painful memories, and you know that. They suck up all of the happy feelings, leaving only despair. I'm not letting Nero go out there alone, and that's final."

The witch smiled at me while Snape seemed appeased. My most-likely nephew just shifted uncomfortably.

I sighed heavily. "If things get really rough, I can summon my Patronus." My wand was extracted from my right boot's upper and twirled deftly between my fingers.

"Very well," Severus sniffed. "Go forth, Devil Hunters, and lay waste to the Dementors."

"What about payment?" I cut in.

An amused quirk of an eyebrow from the woman and inpatient scowl from my long-time acquaintance met my question. Snape gestured toward the tables, and they stood themselves upon their ends along the walls. "You shall receive the same payment I offered Nero. Any other questions, Dante?"

My grin returned. "You want me to give you the spa treatment again? Free of charge," I teased him playfully.

Severus smirked. "Dementors first. Then we'll check my schedule."

I laughed out loud while the other two shot confused glances at us. "C'mon, Kid. Let's get to work."

.-^_^-.

Two o'clock and the Kid and I emerged from the castle. Nero wasted no time with issuing questions. "Dante, what was that? The place settings, the disappearing food, and the tables? The _magic schools_?"

He was so cute with that exasperated pout. Made me wish I had a camera with me. "Kid, some humans are able to do magic. Not the cheap parlor tricks, either." I pulled a golden Galleon from my pocket, tossed it into the air, pointed my still-drawn wand at it, and commanded, "_Engorgio!_" The coin tripled in size.

The Kid's jaw dropped so wide I could almost see one of his wisdom teeth coming in. He lurched forward and picked up the oversized coin. His blue eyes were the size of …almost as big that the Galleon in his hand, actually, as he turned to face me. Apparently at a loss for words but his mouth trying anyway, some jumbled, incoherent sounds came out.

I cancelled my spell with a flick of my wand, and the coin shrunk in the Kid's hand. I held out my wand for him to see. "Ash wood, fourteen inches, core of Thestral tail hair. Witches and wizards use wands to channel their energy to make spells. Spells can be for household chores, self-defense, and pretty much any reason you can think of. That's how this bad guy even made the muttering of his name a spell that shuts down all defensive charms and sends a signal to his minions."

"Why not just kill the bad guy if he's so powerful and dangerous?" Nero asked. "I mean, it's the same principle as eliminating a strong demon, right?"

"These people fight with these," I held up my wand again before stowing it back into my right boot upper. "And so far, only two people seem to invoke fear in this guy. My great-uncle, Albus Dumbledore, and a kid named Harry Potter." I waved for him to follow me away from the school. "Back in the day, the Oracle of Delphi visited a certain witch when she was applying for the Divination position here," I gestured to the castle behind us. "Her prophesy told of the bad guy falling to a child born at the end of summer to parents whom opposed him thrice," I held up three fingers for emphasis. "So, bad guy hears about the prophesy and takes it to mean the Potter family. Bad guy attacks them on Halloween. First is the dad, James. Then the mom, Lily, who shields her one-year-old son with her own body. And then, right when the bad guy casts the Killing Curse a third time that night, it rebounds and hits the bad guy instead. The baby just has a little jagged scar on his forehead."

"Okay. So what happened to the bad guy after he got hit with his own spell?"

"He disappeared for years, biding his time until he had enough strength for a comeback. Best I can figure, this S.O.B. had gained just enough demonic power to not die that time. Anyway, he's back now. The magic community is scared witless of him but doesn't know of a way to combat him without his minions coming to off them. He's made allies of some nasty customers. The Dementors are a prime example of that."

"Why can't the wizards just kill the Dementors? You can, right? So what's stopping them? Besides, why are the Dementors _here_ at this school?" The Kid's frustration shown on his face as if stamped there. Then his expression shifted to surprise then shock as his human hand pointed over my shoulder and beyond.

I followed his stare. A massive tentacle lazily waved above the surface of the lake. I waved back as if it were natural to wave at a giant sea creature that lived in a lake. The end of the tentacle bobbed up and down like a small child will bend his or her wrist in a 'bye-bye' motion before slinking back into the water.

I turned back towards Nero. His eyes were wide and his jaw slack. He turned his head to look at me instead of moving his eyes, which were a bit on the unfocused side. Poor Kid's getting blindsided by all the magic. "Well, Kid," no response. I clapped my big hands in sharp boom maybe two inches from his nose.

Finally the Kid blinked, closed his mouth, and looked at me. I tipped my head at him. "Glad to see you're with me. Now," I continued towards the forest, sensing Nero following. "To answer that last volley, the wizards don't know how to kill a Dementor. They have a way to repel the suckers but not destroy them. I kill 'em like I kill demons—with unrelenting force. Snake-face, the bad guy, has lackeys inside the school and the village a few kilometers away. Somehow Snake-face cut a better deal with the Dementors than the wizards did, 'cuz they used to guard the Azkaban Wizarding Prison. So, Snaky sent the Dementors here, apparently to go nom-nom on anyone's soul and/or emotions who happens to cross the area without a Patronus—the spell that repels Dementors."

At this point, we had reached the grounds keeper's hut. It seemed sorrowfully empty. I tried the door, found it unlocked, and stepped inside. The sizing of everything said a very tall man lived in here. A wand flick to the fireplace and the wood piled in it caught pleasantly. A flick of my wand and the teakettle filled itself before settling on the swinging arm over the fire. I eased up onto one of the oh-so-tall chairs as Nero edged cautiously into the hut.

"We're close to where the Dementors patrol, and there's still a lot to cover before I let you loose on them." I made sure to give eye-contact as I explained our stop.

Nero nodded his understanding and hoisted himself into the chair across from me.

"The first thing you'll notice when you're near a Dementor is the cold. Biting, bone-chilling cold. Windows will frost in their presence. Then the lights will snuff out, whether it be a flame or electric bulb. Next you'll feel sluggish, but that won't last long. Oh, no, because a Dementor will feed on your emotions. It will dredge up your most painful memories and make you remember it, intensified. If there's nothing holding them back, they'll perform what's called 'The Dementor's Kiss', which is basically them sucking your soul out through your mouth."

The Kid shuddered appropriately. Good to know he was taking this seriously. He shook again as I described their appearance in detail. Still, his blue eyes never left my face as I went over weaknesses, strategy, and, if push came to shove, when to turn tail and flee. I covered just about everything I could think of about Dementors.

Even as confident as I was in my explanations, I worried for Nero's safety. It was too soon after the Sanctus-going-Devil incident. Too soon after Credo's death. The Kid hadn't had time to harden his heart to the hurt. I've had years to compress, refine, and polish my most painful memories to an emotional diamond-like state. I can translate the hurt into rage and fling it at my enemies. But Nero doesn't have that, not yet.

I slipped from my seat to fix the tea manually. The groundskeeper kept a number of herbs and whatnot in stock, I found. I gave Nero a stout yet calming brew, just enough honey to offset the bitterness. For myself, a mild black tea with a sliver of dried fruit for flavor. We sipped our teas in companionable silence, enjoying the calm moment while it lasted.

With the last swallow, I waved my wand a flick, and our mugs were clean. I explained my plan about the Centaurs as we exited the hut. It was a fairly simple plan, really. Walk into the Forbidden Forest, find a Centaur, ask for their leader, tell the leader _why_ we're in the forest and ask permission to pass through the Centaurs' territory while hunting. Kid rolled his eyes at the simplicity of it, but agreed it would likely eliminate a complication or confrontation during the mission.

We crossed paths with the Thestrals along the way. Nero shied away from them, but the skeletal winged-horses kept trying to sniff him. I actually had to talk him down, to talk him into letting the Thestrals close. They sniffed at his hands and clothes before trying to coax the Kid into scratching their snouts. I was proud of myself—I refrained from laughing out loud at the Kid's expense.

Twenty minutes of wandering between thick, ancient trees, and no sign of the Centaurs. Nero froze with a gasp as a perfectly white unicorn nibbled on some greenery in the distance. A giant spider scuttled away from us, but I shot it before it could call its buddies. Acromantuli tend to keep large nests, after all.

Shortly after collecting a vial of the spider's venom—"Hey, it might come in handy some day!"—an arrow whizzed just past my nose to strike the tree behind me. I looked at the arrow that still vibrated and now held a now-dead smaller version of the giant spider pinned to the trunk. I turned back towards where the arrow came from, and Behold! A Centaur!

My plan went smoothly, and we received permission to hunt Dementors in the Centaurs' share of the forest. I offered the vial of venom as a sign of goodwill, and the Centaurs returned the gesture with a vial of anti-venom they made to combat the effects of the Acromantula's bite. The Centaurs recognized Nero and I as Blood of Sparda the Good Devil (their words, not mine), and let us wander in peace.

Nero was more educated than most would give him credit for, I soon came to understand. He identified quite a number of plants and some of their known properties as we walked. He also picked a few to ask about when we got back to the castle.

"Hey, Kid," I teased, "I didn't know you had an interest in horticulture."

"It's botony, Old Man. Horticulture is just flowers," came his serious reply as he picked another leafy twig to put into his pouch. "But I am surprised that you know such a scientific-sounding word."

"I just know poison ivy and poison oak. Kinda hard to fight if you're scratching everywhere, you know?" I think the Kid tried to imagine me fighting demons with Rebellion in one hand and a backscratcher in the other. I could tell by his chuckle.

By that point, we had reached a very dark section of the forest. Just as the lack of light made it gloomy, it was also chilly. "Okay, Kid. Our breath will fog when the Dementors are near. So when you exhale and you can see it, stop picking your plants and draw your weapons. Have a thought that pisses you off at the ready. They can't feed on anger, but they can make you wallow in sorrow. Er, sorry, didn't mean to rhyme. But focus on your anger. Use it as a shield, and fight like hell."

I think I jinxed us, because not five minutes after I said that, Dementors swooped in. Five of the Happy-Thought munchers glided around us. I fought like before, partially Triggered, but kept an eye on Nero. So far, he was holding his own. Nero killed one Dementor in the time it took me to eliminate the other four.

We sat on a dead log to catch our breath, which was invisible again. I watched my maybe-nephew from the corner of my eye. His breathing was a little heavier, and his brow a bit sweaty and paler than usual. _Damn_, I thought, _I'll have to get personal_.

"So, Kid. What do you think about your first run-in with Dementors?"

"That was," he breathed out in a sigh, "harder than I thought it would be. Even though I thought angry thoughts, there was this, this sense of hopelessness. It weighed me down, like really heavy training weights."

I pulled a Hershey's Extra Large Milk Chocolate with Almonds bar from an outer pocket. I unwrapped a little at one end and broke off a chunk. Nero accepted the chocolate with his human hand and nibbled on the partially melted treat. I rewrapped the rest of the candy bar before sticking it back into a pocket. "Did the Dementors force any memories to the surface?" _May as well get it over with_, I mentally groused.

Nero nodded slowly and whispered, "Credo." He took another nibble of chocolate. "And a woman's screaming. I don't know where she came from, though."

"Maybe she was your mother. She died when you were young, right?"

"She did. During a demon attack, I was told. I…I don't know her name. Sanctus forbid anyone to tell me."

_That _certainly got my attention. "Why in the Seven Layers of Hell would your mother's name be forbidden?" I blurted. "I don't see a reason why a kid can't know his own mother's name!"

"Sanctus said…He said she was a witch, a practitioner of magic. I didn't really believe it. I thought, 'There's human science and demonic ritual, nothing else.' Now I'm not so sure."

"Ah," I tapped my chin. "Hazarding a guess, the old fart wanted to enforce folks' belief in Sparda, so he tried to erase those who seemed to contradict his preaching. Apparently, Sanctus tried to make it seem like your mom and those like her never existed in Fortuna."

Nero's eyes glazed a bit, obviously thinking my words through. His shoulders were hunched still from the effects of the Dementors. Even his Devil Bringer shown dully, with me sitting right next to him, no less.

"Surely with Sanctus's death, the people are free to tell you?"

I was interrupted by four more Dementors sweeping into our clearing. The Kid shoved the remainder of his chocolate into his mouth before drawing Red Queen. Again, the Kid killed one while I offed the other three. The fight went faster than the last one, at least. Nero was still chewing the almonds as he sheathed his sword at this back.

We sat back onto the log, and I gave the Kid another chunk of chocolate bar. His eyes and Devil Bringer were even duller, his skin paler and clammy looking, and his posture was pathetic.

"The memories are becoming more intense, aren't they?" I asked softly in a rare moment of openly sincere sympathy.

He countered my question with one of his own. His tone was accusatory and suspicious as he asked, "Did Kyrie tell you I like chocolate?"

I leaned back on my perch. "The topic hasn't come up in conversation, no. Chocolate triggers endorphins, the 'feel good' chemical, so it's pretty effective at combating the lingering effects from the Dementors. So, since you accepted chocolate twice without asking why, I assume that you do, in fact, enjoy chocolate."

"I prefer dark with a hint of mint, but this kind is okay. The milk chocolate melts pretty fast, so the crunch from the almonds is a pleasant contrast. What's your favorite?"

"Chocolate covered pecans, I think. Semi-sweet chocolate chips melted down, then drizzled over roasted pecans. My mother, Eva, used to make it." I laughed shortly, "That was one of the few things Virgil and I could agree on. Back before things went to shit."

Seemed talking about anything was better than talking about our experience with the Dementors, because the Kid asked a personal question. "What happened?"

I sighed loudly and shifted my position to straddle the log. "Sparda, my father, left about a month before the attack. One day he just had us all in the front hall. Mom had tears in her eyes, and Dad, he was as somber as I'd ever seen him. He told Virgil and me to look after each other and our mom. He kissed both our foreheads, then a long, chaste kiss with Mom. He took nothing but a small pouch with money and his sword. We watched him through a window until he disappeared over the hill. Then Mom cried and cried. Virge and I had never seen our mom so distraught before. Finally Virgil asked the question I didn't want to voice: He's not coming back, is he?"

Nero stared at me with eyes wide and clear. He had asked what happened, so I finished the grueling tale. "Roughly a month after Sparda left, demons attacked the house. Virge and I were sparring with the swords our father gave us, when we heard Mom's yell. We were going to run out and dispatch the demons we could see, but Mom stopped us. She shoved us into a compartment hidden in the wall even _we_ didn't know was there and told us to stay hidden until she came back for us.

"We stood there in the dark for maybe a minute and a half before we bolted out into the fight. There were so many small fry demons that Virge and I got separated early on. Felt like hours I fought, looking for Mom and Virgil, and hoping that maybe, just maybe, Sparda would show up to save the day. He didn't." I cleared my throat in an attempt to expel the knot that formed just below my tongue. "I found Mom hanging from a tree near the graveyard. I won't go into details, but it was bad, what they did to her. The demons had apparently had their fun and left. I went into shock and crawled into the hollow in the base of the tree. All night I watched out of that hole, and I didn't see Virgil. A day passed, and I didn't move from my hiding spot. Or in it for that matter. Another night passed, and still no sign of Virgil or Father. Finally around dawn, I heard an old man calling our names. I heard him when he saw Mom hanging from the tree, all mutilated but otherwise whole. He cut her down gently; he held her and cried in front of my hollow. He rocked her, sang to her, and petted her hair. I must have made some sound because suddenly he was glaring into the shadows and pointing a stick at me."

The Kid's blue eyes glistened suspiciously like tears, and I ignored his bottom lip held between his teeth.

"That was how I met my grandfather, Aberforth—my mother's father. We buried Mom away from that tree, close to the house. Still no sign of Virgil. Gramps said he already scoured the nearby woods and the graveyard, checked all over the house, but he didn't find my brother. I went with him to double check the house, pointing out all of our hiding spots, including the new one Mom pushed Virgil and me into. Still no sign of him.

"We left a note telling him how to find us if he found the letter and what I now know to be a portkey—a teleportation device. To my knowledge, the small hand mirror portkey is still there in our old damaged house. Gramps took me in, taught me everything he had to teach. He was protective when he needed to be, and understanding of my need for freedom when I needed him to be. I assumed Virgil died the same night as our mother, but since we didn't find his body or his sword, Gramps still had hope he was alive somewhere. Little did I know at the time, he was right."

I scoffed to myself, and then droned on. "When I was about your age, Kid, my idiot brother raised the Evil Tower, Temin-Ne-Gru, and tried to seize our father's sealed demonic power, opening a major Hellgate in the process. We fought, damn, two, three, maybe four times. …And then Virgil goes and falls off a steep cliff while the Gate's closing. Again, I assumed he died and wrote to Gramps to tell him the news.

Several tear tracks shown on Nero's cheek. His chin trembled even as his teeth held his bottom lip.

"Shortly before my trip to Fortuna, Trish delivered the invite to Mallet Island. There I found Virgil was a slave to the Devil King, Mundus, and I fought my brother at least twice more. I'm still not sure if he's dead for real this time. Turns out, Mundus created Trish from Virge's memories. But he made her too much like Mom, because she fought alongside me at the end."

"So Trish, the one that infiltrated the Order of the Sword as Gloria, looks like your mother?"

"She's a physical replica of Mom, yeah. I look at her as a kind of long-lost sister or something. Helps to keep the Weird-O-Meter down."

The last bit jerked an abrupt scoff from Nero, and a sad smile filled his eyes. "At least you remember your mom. I don't even have that."

"Tell ya what, Kid." I stood and stretched. "How about we take a break? My gramps lives nearby, and I'm sure he'd like to meet you."

Nero flung himself into a standing position opposite of me and stared at me with wide eyes. "Why would he want to meet me? I'm just a random Devil Hunter from Fortuna."

"Because I'm old enough to be your father, thus Virgil is old enough, and you're a descendant of Sparda. You look just like Virge and I did at your age. There's too much for me to shrug off as coincidence. Especially since Yamato, my brother's blade, choose you."

The Kid still stood gawking as if I'd sprouted angel wings and a halo. A second head popping into existence wouldn't have surprised him nearly as much.

"Besides," I gestured around the clearing, "there haven't been any more Dementors since I started talking about Mom. They know we're here and that we can kill them. We need to leave for them to come around again, just like demons. I already told Gramps about you in my last letter." With that, I started walking towards Hogsmeade. Nero followed mutely.

.-^_^-.

Alrighty, folks. Thank you for reading 'Chapter 2: Pest Control'. I hope to have 'Chapter 3: Touring Hogsmeade' available soon. Granted, "soon" may be by the end of the month at this rate. To those who have added this fic to their alters: Awesomeness, and sorry for the false alarm. I read through this chapter and decided to make a few minor adjustments; mostly puncutation or word order.

The usual request of authors stands: Read and Review Please!


	3. Touring Hogsmeade

Hello, Readers! Thank you for returning for "Chapter 3: Touring Hogsmeade". I am greatly touched by everyone who has added this story to their Favorites and Alerts. Haha, I guess people are intrigued by a DMC/HP crossover that does not have Dante, of all people, trying to teach human children a year straight.

Special thanks to _mist shadow_, _Xierras_, _Random Person 94_, _Lupus-Cantus-Grimoure_, _Swanboy_, _HyperSallie_, ,_ flamefoxvixen_, _Jayde5_, _Great Vampire-Shinso_, _SkywalkerT-65_, _NiGhTfAlL-II_, _Sombra- The Resurrection_, _D._, _Smiley-sama_, _AlienWonton_, _Black Hyacinth_, _LivingLegends_, _Creator1193_, _Anubis9 Lord of Death_, _XkatarinaXILSB, Shippuu Ookami, No-Imagination-for-a-Pename, 10th Squad 3rd Seat_, _Fox589_, _Kumori Shadow Kage_, _fluffydono_, _Fenrir The Fire Wolf_, _violet404_, and _Insanity Is Iminent_ for reviewing/favoriting/Alert+'ing since "Chapter 2: Pest Control" was posted! Whoohooo! That's a whopping 30 people!

Extra Special Thanks to my Beta, _Blood Everlasting_!

Disclaimer: It seems the only thing original from me is the storyline of this fanfiction. I don't own the copyrights Devil May Cry, Harry Potter, or the Wizard of Oz; and I make no money for my troubles.

.-^_^-.

Nero and I made good time from the Forbidden Forest to the village of Hogsmeade. I pointed out the train station as we trekked over the train rails. High Street greeted us like any other busy, small town.

The general liveliness of the Wizarding village seemed brighter than when I left this morning. The people seemed more cheerful, just a smidgeon. Even the obvious Death Eaters looked like a small burden was lifted from them. I gave Nero a tour of the little town; we stopped at nearly every business.

The Three Broom Sticks was our first stop, seeing as it is closest to the train station. Madame Rosmerta squealed in delight as she caught sight of me, leaving a customer mid-order to dash over and hug me. She told us to find a table as she was a tad busy but wanted to talk. A few minutes later, Rosmerta found us at our corner table and sat with us. She didn't seem to notice or mind that both Nero and I had our backs to our respective walls.

I started conversation with an easy grin. "Rosmerta, I'd like you to meet Nero. I'm thinking he's my nephew, but don't have a way to verify it. Nero, this is Madam Rosmerta, proprietor of the Three Broom Sticks pub and inn."

Nero nodded curtly towards the woman. Rosmerta responded by asking him where he was from and how he and I crossed paths. The Kid answered with condensed truth, omitting a lot of details like how I shot Fortuna's version of the Pope point blank. The questionnaire continued until one of the other employees signaled for the bar lady to return to work.

With a final gushing of "Oh, Aberforth is going to be so excited," she hugged us both and returned to work. We slipped out the door before she could announce us to the whole bar.

I led us on a slight detour to find the Shrieking Shack. We stood at the rickety old fence facing the worn building. I informed my maybe-nephew of the local legends regarding the abandoned house. I went on to joke about the time I myself snuck in to see a werewolf, a large shaggy dog, a rat, and a stag hanging out in one of the larger rooms. After I told Nero of the passageway from the basement of the Shrieking Shack to the base of the Whomping Willow on Hogwarts' grounds, we headed back into town.

We took a quick lap around the interior of Dominic Maestro's music store. Dominic waltzed in from the store room, humming to himself quite gaily, and I mean that by both meanings of the word. The shiny horn of a trumpet was held in his gloved hands as if it were made of blown glass. He stopped mid-stride at the sight to two heads of white hair. "Well, well!" he called with a grin stretching across his thin face. "Dante, oh, it's been so long since you visited me! And, darling, who is this handsome piece of man-meat?" The wizard, dare I say it, _flounced_ in our general direction around a display stand of woodwinds.

Nero paled and flinched away from the hand-model wave Dominic had sent his way. I cut in before the shop owner could mentally disturb the Kid any further. "Sorry, Maestro. I've been busy with my shop across the Pond. But this guy," I jerked my thumb towards the Kid, "is taken by a lovely damsel in his hometown. And he might be my twin brother's kid."

The man set the trumpet's horn on a nearby counter before _tsk_ing me. "You would be so boyishly handsome if you'd only shave." He gave a dramatic sigh, "But, my dear, the rugged look works for you too." Dominic turned to Nero with a bouncing flourish of his 1800's-styled clothes and held his left hand out as if expecting his knuckles to be graced by a kiss. "And _whom_ might _you_ be, deary?"

Poor Kid paled by another shade, but awkwardly attempted a handshake with his left hand. "Nero from Fortuna, Order of the Sword. Nice shop." At least Nero was trying to be polite, or as polite as he got.

"Wonderful to make your acquaintance, Dear Nero." Dominic twirled off, intent on putting the horn back onto its trumpet. "Perhaps you were named after the Roman emperor Nero, who was said to have played the lyre. Do you have an interest in music, my dear boy?"

The Kid regained a little color after some distance was between him and the shopkeeper. "Just listening pleasure. I don't really have that kind of dexterity in my fingers to play an instrument."

"Such a shame," the wizard remarked. He flicked his wand to a corner, and a section of shelving rotated to reveal vinyl records. "If you happen to have a phonograph, these may interest you. My alphabetical listing is right beside the shelf."

I oogled a sweet 1970's guitar in its stand attached to the wall. Suddenly the guitar levitated off the cradle rods and lowered itself into my reach. A glance at Dominic Maestro and his knowing smile confirmed his permission. I strummed a tune I had heard played by these guys from Mississippi at their rock concert. The band's name had something about 'Doors'. Maestro levitated the guitar back into it home after my little performance.

A quick glance over the store showed the Kid with a vinyl record in hand. Of all the records for Nero to pick, I was surprised to see a vinyl of classical symphonies performed by full orchestras. I plucked a rock record at random and waved the Kid to the register.

Dominic arched an eyebrow and made decidedly unsubtle glance between the Kid, me, and between our selections. "Dante, this record has the song you just played," came the wizard's amused comment, and then his dark brown eyes shifted to the Kid. "I didn't quite take you for a classical orchestra-type, Nero. But to each, his own, yes?"

By this point, the Kid had regained some of his confidence, "It's for my girlfriend. She sings opera."

Maestro bagged our carefully cased records with a pleased smile on his face. Nero backed away towards the door, his attention drawn by a self-playing harp that just began plucking its own strings. I chuckled to myself and paid our tab. With a nod to the flamboyant shop owner, I grabbed the bag and tugged the Kid out the door.

The book store Tomes and Scrolls was the next business on the left. I explained how the owners weren't fond of me, with admittedly good reason. I was Hell on legs back in the day, and books and the like couldn't keep me occupied for long. Besides, an astonishing number of that store's merchandise was written in the Shakespearean style—lots of colorful language, but not much sense to us modern folks.

An old, squat wizard squinted at me through one of the grimy windows. I recognized him as the store owner that I'd unintentionally terrorized in my youth. Cheeky bastard that I am, I smiled with insincere sweetness and waved. Nero gave a cordial nod of acknowledgement to the old man as we passed.

Hogsmeade's candy shop, Honeyduke's, had the Kid's mouth gaping as we stepped inside. Matilda scurried out from behind the register and nearly skipped over. The mousy little witch glomped me, her arms around my middle as tight as she could squeeze. Again, I introduced Nero as my pretty-sure nephew, throwing in that he'd been raised Muggle. Dear little Matilda promptly hugged him too, before she grabbed his Devil Bringer hand to lead him about the store. I picked out a few treats as Matilda let Nero sample a candy or five throughout the tour.

Just out of curiosity, I watched for what the Kid seemed to favor out of Honeyduke's vast variety. Sugared Butterfly Wings, Sugar Quills, Pumpkin Fizz, Chocolate Cauldrons, Chocoballs, and Fizzing Whizzbees were amongst the pretty-good list. Crystalized Pineapple, Pepper Imps, Pink Coconut Ice, Spindle's Lick'O'Rish Spiders, Acid Pops, Peppermint Toads, and Cockroach Clusters were in the 'I'm not even gonna put that in my mouth' list.

The woman didn't even look at the hand she held captive until they reached the register counter. Matilda set some candies Nero seemed to like on the counter and glanced down at the hand she still held. "Oh! Your arm!" she gasped.

Nero tugged the appendage out of her grasp and tried to hide it behind his side, his eyes downcast. The movement reminded me of when the Kid and the Damsel were reunited after Sanctus's fall—the Kid displaying the same fragility as then.

Matilda boldly reached out and grabbed his right sleeve, pulling it to face her, and lifted the limb for examination. "Oh, my! It's beautiful." She directed a beaming smile at the Kid, "There's nothing to be ashamed of, dear. This arm, with its tough skin and soft glow, is obviously a very powerful tool for protection! That your arm is in this state means that you have fought to your limit and beyond. People only push themselves that hard to protect the ones they care about. Whoever she is, she's a very lucky woman."

Nero was blushing. A lot. He even let the little witch graze her fingers over the different textures and ridges of his Devil Bringer, from red leathery armor-like protrusion at his elbow to the glowing blue claws of his fingertips. By the time she let the poor boy go, his face was bright pink. Even his neck and ears were at least pastel pink instead of his usual milky peach.

"H-her name is Kyrie," he stammered, face diverted from looking at Matilda. I think he was staring at the second buckle down on my chest as his mind was elsewhere; I couldn't really decipher what he was thinking at that moment.

Matilda continued to smile at him, an extreme happy-twinkle in her brown eyes, and released his hand. The favorites just discovered were quickly bagged by the enthusiastic employee. Then she shifted that smile to me, just as it turned predatory.

I set my selection of goodies onto the counter to be bagged. My goodies included Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans for Agni and Rudra (insert evil laugh here), blood-flavored lollipops for Nevan, a box of Cauldron Cakes, a handful of Chocolate Frogs, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum for Patty, Exploding BonBons for Lady (again evil laugh), Shock-O-Choc for Trish (she actually likes it), Toothflossing Stringmints, Sugar Quills, and Fudge Flies for the various Devil Arms that don't have favorites.

Matilda told me the total damage to my funds, and I paid without complaint. Ah, poor, poor Nero looked so very confused at the words "Two Galleons, seven Sickles, and fifteen Knuts." And so the witch and the senior Devil Hunter, me, explained the Wizarding currency system. Twenty-nine bronze Knuts to a silver Sickle, and seventeen Sickles to a gold Galleon. We held up examples of each piece as we tried to explain. I could tell Nero was happy for a change in conversation, even if it did boggle him.

Finally we left the candy shop after several hugs and well-wishing. Both candy bags accounted for, check. Chatted with Matilda, check. Said hello to Mr. and Mrs. Flume, che—crap. I stuck my head back in the door with a merry shout of "Tell Horace and Mr. and Mrs. F I said hi!" After which I latched onto Nero's human arm and dashed to the next shop.

That little witch always struck me as odd, as far as witches go. Matilda has held a curious and purely academic interest in the Demonic for as long as I have known her. Once, I even let her see my Devil Triggered form as a belated birthday present; she'd run her hands delicately over the armor and textures and…Well, let's just say things could have gone a bit awkwardly if I hadn't known beforehand that she meant the touching to be innocent in nature. We definitely didn't want her asking to see Nero's Trigger; the boy would be embarrassed and red as a tomato if his reaction to how the witch fussed over his Devil Bringer were any hint.

The shop I dragged the Kid into turned out to be the Post Office. A surly clerk stood behind the drab counter perpendicular to the wall of owls. The Kid, predictably, gaped at the sheer number of delivery birds. I took advantage of his shock to talk to the clerk.

"Hey, Earlmont. What's shakin'?"

"Not much. D-Es insist on checking every message sent by owl before they leave. It's a real pain, but at least it's not Cruciatus." He shuddered at the thought. "So if you intend to owl someone, best make it nothing fancy. They'll pick up a complicated code; the buggers won't try to crack the code, mind you. Just torture the one sendin' it. But I've seen some get away with it by disguising their message as a cooking recipe or potion instructions."

I laughed at the notion of Death Eaters trying to decode recipes and potion manuals. "I think only Snape will be quick enough on the potions uptake to catch a code." Leaning an elbow onto the counter, I jerked a thumb toward Nero. "Ya mind helping me explain the Owl Post system to a recently discovered Half-Blood? Kid was raised Muggle, and seeing his reactions is priceless!"

Surly Earlmont smirked as he came around the counter. "Taught him the currency yet?"

"Sorry, you missed that one," I replied with a smirk of my own. We approached the Kid side-by-side. I could only see a sliver of his face from my angle, but Nero seemed genuinely fascinated as he gently brushed the chests of perched owls with his human hand. The birds didn't react unfavorably of his Devil Bringer either.

"I see ya like the owls, and the owls don't mind _you_," drawled Earlmont as he drew up even with the Kid.

The Kid twitched in surprise, but the jerk was barely noticeable to anyone else. "Yeah, I've always been fond of owls. They would gather near me, but fly away from everyone else. Never figured out why, though."

"Owls know if a person is a witch or wizard, lad. They can sense it even before we humans realize. Quite amazing, really." The clerk had begun to stroke the birds as well. "We magic folk use owls to deliver our mail. They are our trusted postman, ya might say. Ya see the different colors on the shelves, lad? The shelves are color coded as to how fast the birds can reach a certain distance. The larger birds are for large packages and longer distances, as a general rule. These tiny Scops owls, for example, are good for a relatively short distance carrying letters or small parcels. The Great Greys, on the other hand, can handle international deliveries, given a few rest-stops on boats across oceans."

I nudged the Kid with my shoulder. "A lot of wizards and witches have personal owls to deliver their mail. The Owl Post Office is for when someone either cannot reach his or her owl or doesn't own one. I've been told that owls make for wonderful pets. Just leave a window open, and they'll hunt for themselves."

Nero made a noncommittal sound in his throat and continued to stroke the birds he could reach. Earlmont and I exchanged a speculative glance behind the Kid's back. Further comment was cut short when a ragged barnyard owl swooped in from an opening near the rafters. Said owl decided to land on Nero's right shoulder, who absentmindedly reached up to pet the bird.

I spun away from the owl wall to burst into laughter, arms already bracing my belly. From the corner of my eye, I saw the clerk's lips twitch upwards before he gave in and smiled. The owl itself ignored us except to stick its leg toward Earlmont for the small leather purse to be removed. Once the bag was off, the owl proceeded to preen Nero's white hair. A fresh wave of laughter washed over me, and I was bent nearly double again.

There was a pause, then Nero asked the clerk, "Uh, does this happen often?" I could imagine the Kid pointing to the owl on his shoulder.

"Nope," the clerk replied, the amusement clear in his voice. "If it's any consolation, that one's hatched a few owlets months back, so she's still on mamma-mode."

I managed to stand upright again, taking deep breaths to calm myself, as the barn owl took flight from the Kid's shoulder and into the roost through a door behind the counter. I grinned at him, and the Kid touched the preened hair with a look of 'ewwwww'. Earlmont slapped Nero on the back before returning to his counter.

Ushering Nero out onto the street didn't take much effort. The Kid trudged along with the most despondent look on his face, the one hand still feeling his defiled hair. Fortunately for him, the next shop was the hairdresser's.

I knocked on the door once, then opened the aged wood barrier enough to stick my head in. "Helloooo!" I called in my best old-lady voice. The hairdresser, a later-middle-aged witch with her dark brown hair cut into a very Muggle bob, greeted me by throwing a pair of hair sheers in my general direction. "Waah, I surrender!" I screeched like the Wicked Witch of the West from the _Wizard of Oz_. Nero looked on in disbelief as the woman and I laughed at our normal exchange.

Opening the door fully, I strutted into the shop and waved for Nero to follow. "Morrigan, good to see you. Unfortunately, I'm here on business, but I did bring you a little business today." I glanced over my shoulder to see the Kid closing the door after himself. "The Kid got preened by owls at the Post Office and could use a good wash to get the owl saliva out."

Morrigan had a fondness for Muggle movies, made noticeable by several posters on the walls. Granted, the posters could be shrugged off as showing various hair styles that were popular. But this witch and I have had many a conversation about movies, from classics to recently released. We even talked about international films and anime. It was not uncommon for Morrigan to accompany a minor (a young me, mind you) to R rated movies in times past. Nero didn't know that, but maybe I'd tell him later.

The Kid faced the witch with a dreading look on his features. Morrigan stood from her client chair to inspect the damage. Finding Nero too tall to get a good look, she pointed to her chair and commanded, "Sit there."

Nero complied without complaint, easing himself into the padded chair. I leaned against the register-counter to observe. The Kid let her skilled hands ease the strands apart, feeling the difference in texture from the preened hair and the non-preened hair. He kept his eyes on his lap despite the blush that came to his cheeks. He bit his bottom lip when Morrigan raked her fingers close to his scalp.

I smirked deviously as a particularly inappropriate thought occurred to me. _It seems Morrigan stumbled upon the Kid's hot spot. Wonder if she'll find another._ Even my own mental chastising didn't quell the smirk.

The witch flicked her wand, and the chair, Nero and all, slid along the worn grooves in the floor to the specialized sink. The Kid, of course, gave a near silent yelp of surprise, his blue eyes wide and staring at the magic caster. Said caster smiled with insincere sweetness in my direction. "Geez, Dante. What did you do, clone yourself? The boy looks just like you at his age."

"Don't look at me, Morrigan." I rolled my eyes, "You're the one that played Auntie-with-custody when I got that vasectomy way back when. He's not mine." I paused to shrug with my hands palms up, "I can't vouch for Virgil, and I've seen him after Nero was born."

"Virgil," the witch echoed with some awe. She shook her head, expression unreadable, and turned back to the Kid. "Well, dearie, let's get you cleaned up." She pushed his shoulders so that he leaned back in the chair, then released a hydraulic lever to ease the chair's back to the rim of the sink. With practiced ease, Morrigan turned on the faucet and tested the water with her hands. Finding the appropriate temperature, she raised the spray nozzle to rinse my maybe-nephew's hair.

I watched as Nero clenched his hands on the arms of the chair, his abdomen tensed enough that I could see it from across the room, and his legs pressed against the bars of the footrest. He relaxed slightly when Morrigan pulled her hands away from his now-wet hair, only to tense again when she lathered his head with shampoo. She worked the shampoo into his roots with well-practiced movements, and a tremble ran through his body.

The hairdresser brought the sprayer back to rinse the suds away; the hands in his hair and the spray of water wrought a strangled moan from Nero's throat. Morrigan took in the Kid's clenched eyes and shallow breathing, before her gaze shot down his body. I could have imagined it, but I think her eyes lingered near the bulging fly of his jeans for a couple seconds.

She cleared her throat as her eyes returned to the task her hands hadn't paused in. "Do you usually use conditioner, dear?"

"No, ma'am," Nero's voice was strained and low, barely audible over the running water. He trembled and tried to hold himself still. I could tell that he was fighting to not demolish the leather-covered chair arm with his Devil Bringer, while the left hand was clinging to its chair arm as if it was the last stable thing.

Finally, the woman shut off the valves and adjusted the reclining lever so that Nero sat upright. She quickly spelled a towel from a cupboard. A faint blush dusted the woman's cheeks as she held the towel to the Kid. He accepted the towel, his face nearly glowing from embarrassment.

Nero muttered darkly to himself as he vigorously rubbed the towel against his wet hair, "And Kyrie wonders why I don't get haircuts often."

The quiet vehemence in the words sent me into another laughing fit. I barely managed to avoid the hair sheers, which stuck in the counter like an arrow. Better the counter than my right butt cheek that Morrigan had aimed at. I could feel Nero's fiery glare despite his eyes being obscured by a fluffy white towel.

While I recovered from my fit (and the hairdresser's attack broom-n-dustpan that were spelled after me), Nero stepped into the quaint restroom to deal with his 'little' problem. It didn't take him nearly as long as I would have expected, so either he finishes quick (poor Damsel) or he thought horrible, grotesque thoughts. He emerged from the bathroom a mere two minutes after entering; the towel was still on his head being half-heartedly used.

"So," I ventured, "what was bad enough to make Lil' Nero retreat?"

Morrigan smacked my arm in reproach as Nero glared at me in earnest. He sighed before replying, "Remember that big toad demon with the lures?"

My smirk widened, "You didn't like the lures?"

"I hate toads. That one was big and obnoxious in smell and personality." He stood with his balled fists on his hips. "That it was a demon and had a crap-load of reinforcements didn't help. No amount sinuously floating lures could ever compensate for that."

I grinned wolfishly, "So you got a good show too? I guess it just couldn't resist with two handsome guys like us."

Nero was spared a reply when the hairdresser smacked my arm again. She held out her hand expectantly, "Pay up." I pulled two Galleons from my pocket and put them into her waiting hand. The Kid nodded his thanks to Morrigan and followed me out of the shop.

Spintwitches Sporting Goods store was the next closest shop on High Street. The Kid glanced suspiciously between the words "Sporting Goods" and the flying brooms in the window display as we approached the painted door. I led us inside and headed to the posters. I figure, best to get the discussion about Quidditch over with ASAP.

An older witch, salt-n-pepper hair pulled back into a high ponytail and deep smile lines, maneuvered around the various shelves to intercept us. "Dante," she coo'ed. "What brings ye to meh shop on this day? An' who be the laddie on yer heels?" She rested a wrinkled hand upon my elbow as her grey eyes sought my pale blue.

"Ah," I patted her hand gently. "I'm in town on business, Razziline. Nero here," I gestured to him with a twitch of my head in his direction, "is helping with that business. I figured, we could take a break, and I'd show him around town."

Razziline swept her grey eyes over the Kid. "Well, g'afternoon, young man. My, ye do resemble Dante quite a bit." She moved passed me to stand in front of the Kid. "Such a strapping young'on. I do hope there's a lovely lass waitin' for yeh at home."

Nero nodded affirmation. "Yes, ma'am. Dante was telling me about all the stuff in town and was very excited about showing it off."

The witch smile benignly just as a middle-aged wizard came through the door. The old Irishwoman went to greet the other customer in her quiet-yet-swift manner. With a nudge to get the Kid's attention, I continued to the posters.

"Alright, Kid. If you're gonna have anything to do with the Wizarding World, you better figure out what they like. So, this is the easiest way to explain the Wizard's sport of choice: Quidditch!" I unfurled one of the posters on display; the Holyhead Harpies zoomed about on their brooms in the picture.

Nero gave a disbelieving glare at the poster. "…They're moving. On brooms." He switched the target of his glare to me. "Why are they moving? Why are they on brooms of all things? I thought that was only in kids' stories."

I grinned at the Kid. "Yeah, the poster moves because of the way the film was developed. Don't ask how, 'cause I have no idea. The magic people actually fly on broomsticks. This sport, Quidditch, is played on brooms high in the air with three different balls." I pointed to big red dented one. "This is a 'quaffle', it's tossed between the 'Chasers' to keep it away from the opposing team and through the hoop of one of those poles," fresh point, "to score points. The one protecting the hoops is the 'Keeper'. You see the two with bats? They're called 'Beaters', and they smack that ball, the 'bludger', away from their teammates and toward the other team." The two Harpies carrying the bats raised their weapons is if to support my simplified explanation, and promptly whacked a bludger out of the shot. "And then there's the 'snitch', this teensy-tiny gold ball with wings. The 'Seeker' goes after that one."

Nero nodded grimly. "Am I going to be tested on this later?"

"Not at all," I chuckled. "I just thought a little preparation would be nice, in the event some little kid tries to talk your ear off—figuratively—about it."

The Kid examined the poster for a moment longer before turning his blue eyes to me. "Old Man, I don't know why you're trying to teach me this stuff," he gestured all around to mean the whole village. "I get that you want to help, but most likely this is going to be my only trip to this place. Even without Sanctus to guide the people, Fortuna won't change into this overnight. We aren't witches and wizards, we're," Nero cut off as Razziline appeared at his elbow.

"Child," she whispered, "if ye weren't wizard, the wards around this village woulda repelled ya from us. Ye have magic blood, lad. No matter where ye go, it's with ye. It seems to me, laddie, tha' Dante's trying to teach ye yer heritage. Tis not something to take lightly."

I could tell the Kid's temper was about to flare, so I tried to get the old woman's attention on me instead. "Don't worry, Razziline. He's just new to it all. He was raised unorthodox Muggle, but it seems his mom was a witch."

"Excuse me, ma'am," Nero maneuvered around the woman. "I need some air." With that, he left Razziline and me by the posters. I watched him exit the store, walk in front of the windows, and crouch beneath a window sill.

The witch and I sighed simultaneously. "Kid needs a bit of time to let it sink in," I offered by way of explanation for his behavior. With a lower tone, I whispered, "I think he's my brother's son. I'm going to introduce him to Gramps later."

Razziline nodded her understanding. "Teach him magic, meh boy. Too much darkness about for him to be without."

I gave her hand a gentle squeeze in parting. My steps echoed Nero's earlier ones, and I stood over his crouched form. He balanced on the balls of his feet, elbows on his knees, and hands in his hair. I gave our surroundings a good look-over; finding nothing suspicious, I returned my gaze to the young man beside me.

"Nero," I hesitated. What I wanted to say was inappropriate for the street where anyone could hear. Besides, his reaction would undoubtedly be inappropriate for the street. A complete change of subject was in order. "How about we just walk by the rest of the shops on the way to Gramps's bar? Better to have time to walk off your irritation than blowing up in the middle of town."

"Fine," the Kid huffed. He easily stood to his full height and faced me. His eyes showed his emotions even as he fought to keep his face neutral. A glance informed me that he'd pulled his right sleeve over his Devil Bringer and stuffed the clawed hand into a pocket.

We walked past the old joke shop, Zonko's. It was boarded up and gloomy. Obviously not open for business. Still, I elaborated about the various Wizarding gags commonly sold there. They carried anything from Dungbombs (worse than the aftereffects of spinach pizza) to Hiccough Sweets to Nose-Biting Teacups. I even told Nero about a similar shop I'd like to visit sometime—the Weasely Wheezes on Diagon Alley in London. The Kid's expression was somewhere between amusement and disbelief.

Portage's Cauldron Shop had aforementioned merchandise on display in the relatively small bay windows of the store front. Countless others rested upon shelves, separated by size and materials. The store owner, one Gladiolus Burbank, waved serenely at us from within the depths of his shop. Obviously, the wizard had overdosed on his prescribed 'happy-potion' again. My oh-so-enlightening explanation to Nero consisted of, "Potions hardware. Cauldrons, stirs, and knives. Occasional cutting board."

J. Pippin's Potions was the next shop down the street. As the merchandise sold being premade potions, it was a likely candidate where Mr. Burbank got his 'happy-potion'. The windows were lined with delicate glass shelves artistically filled with single-doses of common potions in ornate bottles. Even if I didn't worry over the Kid's temper, I wouldn't have entered. Two broad guys with long broadswords on their backs in store containing nothing but glass shelving and fragile bottles is generally not a good idea. I informed the Kid of my reasoning and got an amused snort in response.

Gladrags Wizardwear was a shop that carries a variety of Wizarding clothes. It also sold very lurid socks, including ones that scream when they get too stinky. I conveyed to the Kid a story of this one time I went into Hell and tossed a pair of those too-stinky-equals-screaming-socks amongst a hoard of demons; what had been clean socks shrieked as they landed in the middle of the group and boggled the crap out of creatures that weren't too bright to begin with. Nero snickered behind his human hand.

Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop was a pretty self-explanatory name. The windows were clear of displays and allowed the passerby to see into the store itself. A dazzling array of quills, ink pots, various forms of stationery, and piles upon piles of parchment lined every simple wooden shelf. A few different Muggle pens had made their place amongst the writing utensils, along with some Japanese calligraphy brushes.

Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop is one local in the village that I generally don't enter by my own volition. The incense would clog my nose, and the cluttered round tables with innumerable doylies were just an eyesore. Those tables were too close for anyone of larger build to navigate comfortably. Madam Puddifoot herself was an amicable witch, but her sense of romantic style was horrendous. No way would I be sending the Kid into that torture shop.

The shop of Dervish and Banges repaired and sold magical instruments. I forwent any type of further detail, saying that there was simply too much to cover in just a few minutes. The Kid nodded his understanding, and we moved onward.

Dogwood and Deathcap was Hogsmeade's stop for exotic plants and flowers, and presumably deathcaps as well. Nero's human hand reached for his pouch and glanced at me. I shook my head, stating that the school has a herbology teacher that won't try to pressure him into buying anything. He accepted my alternative, and we continued on towards Gramps's bar.

The Hog's Head pub and inn hadn't changed in the handful of hours since I left it. Sometimes with magic, one can never be too sure. The exterior was all worn and faded, yet still sturdy. The windows were in need of a wash, leaving the view of the inside murky at best. I knew that the bar was a tiny room with rough-hewn tables with naught but candle stubs for illumination, and the floor was concrete with a carpet of dirt. The guest rooms were upstairs for the most part, and Gramps's living space was down stairs. The usual fair of clientele wasn't much better off than the building itself, appearance-wise.

Before I approached the door, I gave a small warning to Nero. "Keep your guard up in here. Some of Gramps's customers are pretty sleezy lowlifes." He nodded, and followed me through the entryway.

A chorus of "Dante!" sounded from the regulars as I waded between the tables; then the drunkards went back to their drinks. Gramps gave me raised eyebrows, but his blue eyes widened as he noticed Nero behind me. "Dante, good to see you back, boy," Gramps half-growled in his 'working voice'. "And who's the lad with you?"

I grabbed the Kid's human elbow and practically dragged to the bar's counter. I could tell Gramps had a good idea who the Kid was, but this was family business. "You think the bar can spare you a few minutes, Old Man?" My grin was as wide as it got.

Gramps surveyed the small crowd in his pub, then nodded. The three of us went downstairs to his personal living quarters. Aberforth Dumbledore shakily sat in an armchair and gestured for Nero and me to site as well. I pushed the Kid into a seat closer to Gramps, and the Kid glared at me for the rough treatment. I shrugged as an 'Oh well' gesture and plopped into another armchair.

"Is this the boy you wrote to me about, Dante?" Gramps asked softly.

I nodded vigorously. "Yep, Gramps. This is Nero from Fortuna, current wielder of Yamato, and as far as I can tell, Virgil's son." Gramps's clear blue eyes gazed at Nero over the old man's spectacles. Nero met that bright gaze with his own as I continued the introductions. "Nero, this is Aberforth Dumbledore, my grandfather and quite possibly your great-grandfather."

The wizened Dumbledore pulled his smeared glasses from his worn face to peer closer at the Kid and then reached out his right hand to shake. Nero glanced at me before extending the Devil Bringer to gently clasp the outstretched hand. The old man suddenly stood to his feet, jerking the Kid up and into an embrace that left the youngest startled.

I noticed that Gramps was a little taller than the Kid, as the old man's arms casually encircled Nero's shoulders. The Kid's chin was forced to rest on Gramps's shoulder due to the closeness, and Gramps slowly stroked the back of the Kid's head with one hand while the other clutched at Nero's denim jacket. My maybe-nephew just kinda patted the middle of Gramps's back. I knew Nero wanted to look at me with a "help!" look, but the angling wouldn't allow the movement.

After a few moments of simply holding what could be his great-grandson, Gramps released his hold on the Kid. The elder Dumbledore had a new twinkle in his eyes as he turned to Ariana's portrait. "You see, Ariana! See what a handsome boy Virgil has fathered!" The old man spun back around to clasp both hands on the Kid's shoulders. Gramps went on to ramble about something, but I was watching the Kid's reaction.

Nero stared with wide eyes over Gramps's shoulder as Ariana smiled sweetly in her portrait and nodded to him. "She moves," he whispered in awe, earning a boisterous laugh from Gramps. The Kid stumbled into a sitting position in his armchair. Few deep breaths later, he looked a lot calmer.

My grandfather settled himself back into his chair. "Aye, she moves. That's a Wizarding portrait of my younger sister, Ariana. Unfortunately, she died early in life, but I always keep her close to my heart. I'm glad you could see her, Nero, and she you." Gramps grinned at us, his lighter mood taking years of aging off his face. "So, you two are hunting in the woods, yes? I bid you good luck and safe travel, lads. Dementors are not to be toyed with."

The Kid winced. "Tell me about," he grumbled. "We had to fight our way through them to get here. That's what we were hired to do, after all."

I stood as Gramps did. He ambled towards the stairs, but paused to look over his shoulder at us. "You can leave your things here until your job is done, lads. Rest up a bit if you need to, then get back to work. I need to get back to m'bar before those miscreants tear it to pieces." With those as parting words, Gramps made his way back upstairs to the pub.

Nero still sat, his expression curiously blank, as he stared somewhere off to my left. A glance told me of a broken mirror with a piece missing against an otherwise plain wall. "Is that mirror magic too, Old Man?"

I glanced at said mirror again. "Maybe. Did you see something?"

"Black hair, round glasses with silver rims, and green eyes. Maybe a light pink scar on the forehead." The Kid's blue eyes shifted to rest on my grimacing face.

"Potter," I muttered, "the wonder-kid. Like, it's a wonder he's still alive." I shook my head. "Good to know someone is looking out for him, though. The teachers are bound to Hogwarts during the year, same for most of his classmates, and that leaves very few people that Boy-Who-Lived to turn to for help. The Ministry of Magic has been infiltrated by Voldie's followers, so that negates the possibility of their aid. Now it's just the Order of the Phoenix that Potter can trust."

"Who?"

"A group founded by my great-uncle, Albus, to covertly oppose Snake-face his first reign of terror, then regrouped after his return." I sat back down, and set our collective purchases on an end table. "The Order of the Phoenix, it's people from all walks of life in the Wizarding World, Kid. They even have a werewolf amongst their ranks. 'Course, so does Voldie, but the Order's werewolf was a friend to James and Lily Potter, Harry Potter's parents."

I leaned back in my seat and rested my eyes. Creaking furniture alerted me that Nero had stood up; the thump of his footsteps told me that he was approaching me. He kicked my boot, and I cracked open just one eye to let him know he had my attention. The Kid's expression was closed, unreadable; his voice was just as inflectionless as he muttered, "Let's go. There's still more of those Demented-things out there."

I smirked as I rose to my full height, "You mean 'Dementors'." With a wave to signal 'follow me', I marched up the stairs. A nod to Gramps acted as my farewell, and we were back onto High Street in minutes.

The townspeople had mostly gathered indoors as we made our way back towards the Forbidden Forest. I walked with my usual swagger down the familiar road. Nero's gait hinted at his determination to get better at fighting the Happy-Thought-Munchers, as I'd come to call Dementors. Our way went unopposed and unhindered until we reached the shadow of the forest itself.

.-^_^-.

Well, there you have it, folks! "Chapter 3: Touring Hogsmeade" is complete. The usual author's request of _Read and Review_ still stands.

For those of you who are way knowledgeable on Aberforth Dumbledore, feel free to tell me if I didn't get him into character too well. I know I have Nero rather subdued in this chapter, but he's really out of his element in a Wizarding village. I figured, in his home turf, he's mouthy; put him in grounds and culture he's not familiar with, he'll try to take the lead of someone with more experience. That, and he's still recouperating from the Dementors.

I will try being more specific in the upcoming chapter (thus far unnamed), so it may take a while to write. Thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4: Hunting

Hello, everyone, and thank you for joining us to read 'Chapter 4: Hunting' in my crossover fanfiction "Of Wizards and Demons: Hogsmeade's Devil Hunter". I would like to thank everyone for your patience, as I know I take forever to update. Did you like the preview of 'Chapter 4: Hunting'? I've bolded the **.-^_^-. ** Thing so you know when the material from Preview ends.

I rate this chapter as T for "Teen" due to some swearing. C'mon, it's Dante and Nero; you can't expect them to be on their best behavior for the entire story!

Thanks to _DevinePhoenix_, _HolyDragoon_, _Random Person 94_, _Wei Tzu_, _Jason M. Lee_, _Frenzi99_, _NoctisLuCa_, _Luv2LuvnLaff_, _batripe_, _Victoriousvillian_, _Lost Reasons_, _DarkKnightOfShadows_, _Lia Silverclaw_, _kuroyukihime2_, _catlover123456789_, _Tigerwulf_, _Lady Gondiel_, _astrakage_, _LadyoftheDrow_, _AliesEve_, as they have either Favorited, Subscription Alert+'ed, and/or Reviewed since Chapter 3. And yes, I do try to keep track of that.

The Patronus Vote was won by Eadha Ohn, upon whose suggestion I elaborated. ^_^ You'll see it when you read it.

Also, if you don't sign in but leave a question in your review, I won't be able to answer you. Sorry, "L". But thanks for the heads up on that error, L; it does look better. As of right now, I'm looking for a good Beta for this fic-PM if interested!

The usual disclaimer of "I don't own them" applies to _Devil May Cry_ and _Harry Potter_.

.-^_^-.

The strangest song got stuck in my head as Nero and I navigated the Forbidden Forest. _Over the river and through the woods, to Grandmother's house we go_. I'm pretty sure I heard it on a children's program when Patty commandeered my TV at some point. At least I wasn't singing it aloud; Kid would think I lost my friggin' mind. For that matter, _I_ would think I lost my friggin' mind.

At about five yards inside the treeline, Nero rolled up the sleeve that covered his Devil Bringer. I was glad to see that the arm's glow had recovered during our trip into town. We were pretty quiet as we wandered further into the forest. Between enhanced sight from our Devil blood and the Kid's Devil Bringer painting the ancient trees an eerie blue, the deep shadows and tree roots weren't a problem for either of us.

"I was thinking," Nero spoke softly in the near silent gloom, "Dementors act kinda like a Mephisto. Do you think tearing away their cloaks will leave them venerable like a Mephisto?"

I shook my head, the corners of my lips twitching upward. "I've tried that before, and I wouldn't recommend it. Tearing off their cloaks just pisses off Dementors. They're already going to be plenty pissed at us for killing some of their numbers."

Nero nodded his understanding, and we continued onward toward the heart of the forest. About ten minutes passed before either of us spoke again.

"Damn it!" I slapped my palm to my forehead. "I forgot to ask Gramps about that ancestry spell!"

The Kid arched one of his pale brows as he regarded my Stance of Utmost Annoyance. That particular stance consists of my feet being a little further apart than my shoulder width, knees straight, hips pushed forward, my torso leaning back, head tilted back at approximate twenty degrees, and one fist loosely propped on a hip while the other was pressed dramatically to my forehead. I take this pose when very annoyed during a non-life-threatening situation, and it has a tendency to annoy onlookers.

He shifted his eyes to survey our surroundings, enormous trees and underbrush, before his blue eyes fell on me again. "Do I even want to know, Old Man?"

I sighed, dragging my hand down my face, and resumed a more natural pose. "I wanted to check your ancestry, Kid. There's this spell my gramps told me about that will reveal the person's family, living and dead. It can track back a couple millennia if there's enough ink and parchment."

His eyebrows drew close together as his lips tugged downward. "What does it matter? I have all I need as it is. Kyrie and Credo are my family, have been as long as I can remember."

"It's part curiosity, part yearning for family myself." I shrugged off the implication of the second part. "If Virge or I had kids unknowingly, I want to find out as soon as possible. Besides, you saw how happy it made Gramps, and that was just the _possibility_ that you could be his great-grandson."

The Kid shifted his weight, scowling into the nearby shadows. "Let's just concentrate on the task at hand. I don't want to be out here all night if we don't have to be." With that, he took the lead in our wanderings.

Another fifteen minutes passed before our breath fogged in the suddenly frigid air. "Angry thoughts!" I shouted as a hint to Nero. We both drew our guns, Ebony and Ivory securely cradled in my hands and Blue Rose in Nero's human hand. A bold Dementor rushed from our front; the Kid held his dual-barrel pistol to his Devil Bringer then fired with a Charge Shot level 1. The Dementor reeled from the demonically charged bullet while two of its kin joined the fray. _Gunslinger Style. _I opened fire in with both my guns, one at each new target in what I call 'Twosome Time'.

The soul-sucking fiends wasted no time closing in on us. Nero holstered Blue Rose and unsheathed Red Queen to hold the sword in a steady two-handed grip in front of himself. I quickly put my back to his, returning Ebony and Ivory to their holsters and pulling my shotgun, Coyote-A, from under my coat. The trio of Dementors circled us loosely. With the large firearm braced against my shoulder, I fired a potent Charge Shot of my own; the red energy bullets tore into the happy-thought-munchers like scattershot to anything else.

The two Dementors closest to me wheeled around and away, while the one nearest the Kid tried to swoop in. The Kid revved Red Queen into Exceed, the propellant ignited red-hot along the blade, and the Kid lunged forward to strike at the enemy. Surprisingly enough, his fiery blade cut into the shriveled flesh even as the Dementor tried to feed from the Kid's emotions. It flung itself back in a momentary retreat.

Our backs met again as the Mesphisto-wannabes began to circle us again. "Nero," I breathed his name in utter seriousness, "when I step back, you better duck down." I felt the movement of his shoulders when he nodded. The Dementors made to attack en masse. I stepped back just as I told the Kid I would, nearly knocking him down in the process, and he dropped into a crouch near my feet. I twirled Coyote-A in a move I call 'Fireworks'; the shotgun was treated as if it were nunchaku and fired into all three monsters repeatedly.

I took advantage of the temporary breathing room 'Fireworks' afforded us by holstering Coyote-A and whipping Lucifer onto my shoulder. I had walls of spectral blades acting as layered walls in a fort. Nero and I had enough room to maneuver with our swords and such within our barrier. For good measure, I flung a few extra spectral swords at each Dementor.

Nero regarded the defensive measure from his crouch. "Not bad, Old Man. But they just have to wait us out until the energy dies down."

"Tch," I waved for him to stand, which he did. "Kid, these guys can't get too close to us without going _Boom_. Now is a great time to practice Yamato's Summon Sword technique. I want to teach you how to use Yamato to the fullest. That means you've got to learn all its techniques." I pointed to Nero's Devil Bringer, "Draw Yamato."

Nero scowled at the command, but a flash of blue light later and my brother's sword was held loosely in my maybe-nephew's Demonic grip. His brow wrinkled as he stared at the katana. "So," the sword tilted to a different angle, "Yamato can do more than Red Queen?"

I snorted in an almost amused manner. "Hand it over, and I'll show you. Sometimes, Kid, you have to be shown what something can do to know that it can be done. Other times, the Devil Arm will lend you knowledge. Yamato is obviously of the former category." With a dejected sigh, the Kid passed Yamato to my waiting hand.

The Dementors circled as close to the red spectral swords as they dared, which was closer than I would have liked. The chill caused by the creatures turned my forearms to gooseflesh and the hairs at the back of my neck to stand on end. I could feel them trying to get past my mental barriers of rage; I saw how Nero was already drooping during the wait.

I took the stance of a samurai to draw Yamato from its sheath. My left hand held the scabbard near the sword's guard while my right hand firmly grasped the hilt. A soft thrust from my left thumb against the guard pushed the blade out by an inch. I performed a move known as _nukitsuke_, which consists of drawing the sword and slashing in the same motion, flicking possible blood from the blade, and re-sheathing the weapon. Using Yamato in that technique caused an energy crescent to whip out and strike one of the circling Dementors, cutting into the grotesque flesh and lopping off its arm.

The Dementor wailed in agony as it backed up. The other two circled a little more cautiously.

I turned to Nero. "Now you try." I made sure he had the proper grip on the scabbard and handle. I'm pleased to say the Kid picked up the smaller details well from watching me just once.

He tried to perform _nukitsuke_, but his first attempt resulted in a wave of displaced air. Not bad for a first try. I talked him through concentrating his energy in the strike similarly to his Charge Shot. His second go at _nukitsuke_ formed a warbled spectral crescent that clipped a Dementor by sheer luck. A third try provided a thin-but-stable crescent with better accuracy, taking off a bony hand from another soul-sucker. The fourth was near perfect…except that the spectral crescent hit a tree limb that fell onto one of the injured Dementors. The Kid shrugged at my questioning raised eyebrow.

"Next move," I said, holding my hand out to receive the sheathed Yamato.

_**.-^_^-.**_

We continued like that for about an hour. I demonstrated each technique once or twice for the Kid to get the basics, and then talked him through performing those same techniques himself. I had to reset Lucifer's barrier of spectral blades maybe four times. The Dementors were slowly but surely being cut apart, their effect on Nero lessening as they grew weaker. Despite the damage each soul-sucking monstrosity took, none of the three were willing to leave us be. Just as well because we needed appropriate targets for the Kid to master Yamato.

After making Nero do another run-through of the attacks onto the Dementors, he and I killed them off with a Charge Shot to each fiend—one bullet from each gun in our usual arsenal. We holstered our guns, and I slung my arm across the Kid's shoulders, jerking to my side in a one-armed 'guy hug'. As expected, Nero shrugged out of my loose hold and move a little distance away. He acted out searching for more enemies in the dense forest, but I suspected he was just trying to collect his thoughts.

I will admit to the sappy, proud grin that stretched across my face. Where my father had made Virgil practice with Yamato until he discovered all of the sword's abilities on his own, I taught the Kid how to wield the weapon in _way_ less time that it had taken my brother. It went by faster than when I tried to teach myself Yamato's moves before I even held the sword. Pop did have that rule that Virge and I were not allowed to practice with each other's inherited blade; he let us use similar substitutes instead.

My maybe-nephew finally turned to face me, a question evident in his eyes. The side of his mouth quirked up just a bit as he noted my expression. "Have we had enough male-bonding time, or can we go kill these bastards now?"

His cocky attitude transformed my former grin into a predatory one. "Just remember, _Kid_," I drawled, "those new techniques will be even stronger when you Trigger. But, Hells yes! Let's Rock!" I bolted from the clearing, Nero hot on my heels, towards where I thought I sensed more Dementors.

***.-^_^-.***

Apparently, my Dementor-detecting skills needed work. Instead of finding another group of soul-sucking fiends, we came a across a 'small' giant named Grawp. Of course, the Kid and I paused at the initial sight of the fella. And the fella paused at the sight of us…then swung one helluva club at us. I vaguely recalled the Deputy Headmistress mentioning an ally giant in the forest, something about being the half-brother to the groundskeeper, Rubeus Hagrid.

"Don't hurt him!" I shouted. Both Nero and Grawp gave me incredulous stares, with Nero not dropping his guard near the giant.

The Kid scoffed as he shuffled out of Grawp's immediate striking range. "What do you mean, 'don't hurt him'?" He held Blue Rose at the ready in his human hand.

"Big guy's part of the castle's defenses. Right, Grawp?" I moved into a seemingly casual stance, but I was ready to move if the sixteen feet of giant went on the offensive.

Grawp's club rested point down on the ground for the moment. The giant used his other hand to scratch his head in confusion. "Where Hagger?"

This time, I did the head-scratching. "Hagger? Oh, Hagrid!" I laughed lightly, amused by the situation. "He's probably with the school kids."

The giant narrowed his eyes at me. "Why you here?"

I watched as the big guy shifted his hold on the club. "Nero and I are killing Dementors. They're overpopulating, and that poses a threat to the school," I calmly explained.

Grawp still looked confused. "Dementies? You kill Dementies."

I nodded with an attempting-to-be-friendly smile. "Yep. Nero and I better get back to work, though. It was nice talking with you." The giant smiled with uneven yellowed teeth and waved as we walked away. Well, I walked away; Nero still hedged around Grawp's striking range. I paused next to a big sturdy tree to wait for the Kid to catch up. Grawp the 'small' giant lumbered deeper into the forest, apparently having lost interest in us. Just as well, I suppose.

We ventured through the foliage of ferns and other underbrush. Soon enough, the temperature dropped off again, and four Dementors swooped into the clearing we stood in. At least these buggers have been letting us fight in relatively open areas. Having to attack and defend around all these trees would be a pain.

I hummed my approval of Nero wielding Red Queen in his left hand and Yamato in his right. I decided to join him in using dual blades—Agni and Rudra were pulled out from under my coat. And yes, there is a small pocket dimension in there, but it only seems to work for weapons and demonic items for some reason. Agni puffed smoke contentedly while his brother, Rudra, made mini-tornadoes in excitement.

"What a glorious day for battle, Brother!" Rudra proclaimed.

Agni replied, "Indeed, my brother! For our master has taken us into battle with him!"

I lost my temper. "Shaddup!" With a mighty clank, I banged their little heads at their pommels together. "No talking, or you get left behind for the giant spiders to play with!" The Firestorm brothers fell silent at once.

Between the whirlwinds of billowing flames from Agni and Rudra, the Exceed gauge from Red Queen, and the phantom blades of Yamato, the four Dementors didn't last long. I went ahead and burned the ghastly remains for good measure. Sure, you wouldn't expect partially decayed chunks of soul-suckers to get up and reassemble themselves, but you would likely be dead pretty quick too from making such assumptions. Better safe than sorry, as they say.

I replaced Agni and Rudra in that odd pocket dimension my coat, retrieving Rebellion in the same motion. Nero and I continued our stroll in the forest. The Kid kept eyeing the back of my coat. After about five minutes of relative silence between us, he finally asked.

"How the hell do you do that?" The younger hunter stopped to take on an irritated pose. His eyes burned with a mix of mild annoyance and curiosity.

While I smirked knowingly, the rest of me said 'I don't know what you're talking about'. "Do what, Kid?"

He rolled his eyes at my obviously feigned ignorance. "Pull all different weapons out of nowhere! That trench coat is way too tight to hide those scimitars. Where do you store them?"

My smirk widened at his exasperation, and I know my eyes had the Dumbledore twinkle my mother's family is so well known for. "Apparently, one of the demonic powers I inherited from my father is the pocket dimension under my coat. I don't know how it works, and quite frankly, I don't care. It can hold all my equip-able weapons and various items I find along the way in my jobs. Pretty damn convenient if I do say so myself."

The Kid rolled his eyes again at my flippant tone. "Great," he muttered, then glared with pursed lips at his Devil Bringer. "I guess it works kinda like my arm." He startled into alertness as his breath fogged on the last couple words.

In a flash, I traded Rebellion for Nevan as Nero drew both his swords again. We stood back to back. So far, the latest Dementor threat had yet to appear between the trees. I strummed a cord on Nevan, and electrified bats few a circle in our immediate area. "Behold, Nevan Combo 2, also known a 'Tune Up'." I let fly another round of 'Tune Up'.

I would guess that Dementors aren't fond of demonic, electric bats because after two rounds of them, the soul-suckers entered our clearing. I picked 'Jam Session' at the cords of the demonic guitar, which unleashes hordes of bloodthirsty flying rodents. The bats created a temporary wall between us and the Dementors, enough that we could see just how many of our prey were present. I counted six, so the fight should be a little more fun than the last.

Nero kept to Red Queen and Yamato for his weapons. I switched Nevan from guitar to scythe at will, ravenous, electrified bats flying all the while. Even as I wrought carnage on the Dementors with Nevan's scythe, I kept a close watch on the Kid.

He was doing alright, but this many happy-thought-munchers at once were visibly taking its toll. His moves were slowing, almost sloppy, and his breathing was heavier than it was at just four enemies. I could see the cold sweat on his brow from a couple yards away. We'd moved further apart due to both our chose sets of weapons had longer reach, which was just as much a threat to each other as to our foes.

With a startled yelp, Nero tripped over a large tree root. I Triggered as I dove to protect his prone position. The Dementor that had swooped toward him got a face-full of Devil Triggered half-breed and gut full of scythe instead. The Kid struggled to his feet, bracing himself against the aged tree. The fall had apparently shattered whatever kind of emotional barrier he'd set, and the dull, almost non-existent glow of his Devil Bringer revealed just how much that weakened him. I heard him whimper a faint '_no_'.

My wand was in my hand before I'd even really made the conscious connection. With a shout of "_Expecto_ _Patronum_", opposite-colored mists billowed from the tip of my seldom-used wand. The blue mist solidified into a traditional Japanese dragon; long coils of scaled beast stretched thin and narrow, short yet strong legs to ravage that which it captured, while the fanged jaw snarled threateningly. It had a short mane of white fur and matching tufts on the back of each elbow and heel; its antler-like horns shined golden. The red mist formed the stockier European dragon, with a blunt snout, majestic wings, a whipping tail, and powerfully muscled legs. The red's underbelly glimmered white as bone, same as the ridges of horn adorning its triangular head. Each spectral beast was about as long as Virgil and I standing on each others shoulders, so pretty compact for dragons. Both dragons had eyes that matched the amulets my mother gave to Virgil and me—blood red that shined with fierce intent. Fueled by the memory of receiving our amulets and Mother's sweet face, the dragons both spewed jets of fire at the Dementors.

While most Patroni can only chase away Dementors, my dual-Patronus can land physical damage. Must be something to do with my Demonic heritage. _Thanks, Pops_, I thought somewhat sarcastically, somewhat proudly.

The Blue dragon snaked its way around one of our enemies and set all four of its three-clawed feet to mangle its prey, while those gleaming fangs were put to use in crushing the mummified head. The Blue Dragon's tail whipped and slashed at nearby Dementors. The Red Dragon leapt from target to target, carving its prey with sharpened talons, beating off offenders with wing strokes, and bashing anything that came too near with its crocodile-like tail. The remaining Dementors—a mighty number of two surviving when we'd started at six or more—fled for their pitiful existence.

Once the immediate area proved clear of threats, I turned toward Nero. The Kid had slumped to the tree's base. His eyes were glassy even as they trailed after the Dragon-Patroni. His face portrayed a numb blankness, so different from his usual vitality. The Devil Bringer hung limp at his side, barely giving the light of a glow-in-the-dark plastic star.

My dragons took to either side of me as I tucked my wand inside my sleeve, maintaining skin contact with the magically enhanced wood. I collected my maybe-nephew in my arms to carry him bridal-style, tucked close to my chest. Once I deemed him secure in my grasp, the trees whizzed by as I ran for the castle of Hogwarts. Where before that last fight Nero's Devil Bringer aided sight with its glow, now my Dragons alighted the path; one slithered mid-air before us while the other galloped behind with its wings folded to its body.

Acromantula scattered at our passing. Centaurs stared openly as we streaked by in a blur. Thestrals trailed behind us, obviously curious. The winged, skeletal horses fell back at the treeline, hesitant to leave the forest.

I was surprised at the sunlight that poured down onto us when we finally broke away from the dense woods. Even the dim light of evening—just before dusk, really—seemed so very bright after the gloom of the forest and Dementors. I didn't trust the Dementors to not sweep out after us, so I maintained my dual-Patronus right up to the castle's entryway. The Blue dragon entered the vestibule and coiled itself into the eastern corner to minimize its bulk. The Red followed me inside, its nimble tail catching the door handle and pulling it shut. They dissolved into mists and returned to my energy.

I stood in the small stone entryway, trying to regain my breath. My eyes unerringly slipped down to check on Nero. With one arm around his shoulders and the other under his knees, I held clutched him to my chest. His head rested a few inches above my heart, his knees almost touched my other pectoral, and his butt hung just high enough to not get kicked, however unintentionally, when I ran. The Devil Bringer pressed against my stomach and lay across his belly. His light blue eyes were clouded and unfocused, lost in the horrors that the Dementors awakened in him.

.-^_^-.

Ending Note:

Thank you for reading "Chapter 4: Hunting". Right now, Chapter 4 is the shortest of the chapters. I hope the action, such as it was, and the unveiling of Dante's Patronus makes up for the lack of length.

The action I left mostly undetailed because (A) I would try to be too technical about it and then it'd be just _Blah Blah Blah_; and (B) everyone has his or her own style of battle within the set parameters of _Devil May Cry_'s gameplay, and every reader will envision the fights differently.

Okay, People! Tell me what you liked and what you didn't like! Review and give me feedback! You know, just hit that little button down there. Yes, that button.

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	5. Chapter 5: Recuperating

Sorry for the delay, everyone! Would you believe part of the hold-up was that I got distracted by conversing with a Dante Cosplayer? It's true! The other part is that I got distracted by reading other people's fanfiction. After getting entangled in "An Aunt's Love" by Emma Lipardi (HP fic), I've decided to not read more fiction until this chapter is done. …Vampire Hunter D novels (written by the awesome Hideyuki Kikuchi) during my lunch break at work not withstanding.

Inspiration for this part came very slowly, thus progress came in spurts.

Special thanks for Reviewing, Alert+ing, and/or Favoriting goes to **a2eN**, **aneszto**, **XiaoWing**, **asredwer**, **Kant** , **highpockets**, **Wandering** **Sage**, **Akuma-Heika**, **Asherit**, **Killiara**, **DarkVampire1337**, **staidwaters** , **Racnarath**, **Snoara**, **belladonnabones**, **Darkfirelight**, **DemonicPride2001**, **10th Squad 3rd Seat**, **Vampstinger**, **Shinigami-Chan17**, **deathshade37**, **Eradona**, and **dragnair**. If I happened to have missed anyone, I apologize.

This chapter is not Beta'd, just so you know. The usual disclaimer applies: I don't own them so please don't sue! One more thing, I give this chapter a rating of PG-13-ish.

.-^_^-.

**Last Time…**

_I stood in the small stone entryway, trying to regain my breath. My eyes unerringly slipped down to check on Nero. With one arm around his shoulders and the other under his knees, I clutched him to my chest. His head rested a few inches above my heart, his knees almost touched my other pectoral, and his butt hung just high enough to not get kicked, however unintentionally, when I ran. The Devil Bringer pressed against my stomach and lay across his belly. His light blue eyes were clouded and unfocused, lost in the horrors that the Dementors awakened in him._

.-^_^-.

I retraced my steps to the Great Hall. Since it was dinner time, I could follow my nose again. The large double doors loomed before me in no time. _Hmm, to kick the door open, or to hit it open back-first?_ Kicking would probably jar the Kid in my arms less. One mostly restrained kick, and one of the towering doors swung inward smoothly.

All eyes turned my way. The students stopped eating their dinner to gawk. The teachers shot to their feet, wands drawn and pointed in my general direction over the kids' heads. I saw recognition register in the adults' eyes, and most lowered their wands. Some more reluctantly than others, I noted. Still, wands or no wands, I carried Nero towards the staff table.

The Carrow siblings kept their wands in plain view, still suspicious. Flitwick stood in his seat, prepared to conjure a chair or something else useful. Sprout stood from her seat but stayed at the table. Minerva McGonagall swiftly rounded the table and met us in the isle between student tables. Severus Snape took in the sight of us with a level gaze.

Nero rested, unresponsive, in my hold as McGonagall came as close to openly fretting as she ever gets. "Dante," the Deputy Headmistress asked, "what happened to the boy?"

"Not here," I whispered in reply, my gaze shifted back to Severus as a hint. Snape flicked his wand to the door tucked behind the staff table. The same door Nero had come out of earlier in the day. It swung inward at the silent command. I nodded toward that waiting door, and we trailed along after Snape inside the room. The door swung silently shut behind us.

I found the room to be set up to accommodate two people. Two relatively narrow beds stood at opposite ends of the room, and a scratched desk and chair sat near each footboard. The beds were made with House-neutral colors, grey and black. Nightstands stood beside each headboard. A small enclosed area that likely held a toilet, sink and bath, acted as a sort of privacy wall. Severus stood in a far corner, looking not entirely unlike shadows manifested into material form.

As I examined the room, McGonagall had summoned one of the many House Elves. The House Elf was a small, skinny humanoid creature with large doe-brown eyes, bat-like ears, and knobby knees. The disproportionate feet seemed too large for the rest of its body. It wore what looked like a wash cloth with the Hogwarts crest embroidered onto it as a toga. The little creature snapped its bony fingers, and a cot and laundry basket appeared in the middle of the floor. The cot had a metal frame, and canvas fabric stretched from end to end, fastened by simple snap-clasps.

With a clear and easily-cleaned spot to put the Kid, I gently set him onto the cot. After all, the muck that liberally coated the Kid's clothes made me hesitant to set him onto one of the beds. I turned to the House Elf. "Thanks. What's your name?" I asked of the helpful servant.

The House Elf smiled shyly and replied, "Boris. I usually work the kitchens and the occasional prank-clean-up duty. Thank yous for asking, Mister Dante Dumbledore, sir."

McGonagall eyed Snape questioningly. "Well, Severus. What do you propose we do now? What shall we tell the children?"

The current headmaster took a moment to consider his options. "What happened, Dante?"

"We fought the Dementors, round after round of them. The forest was an obstacle in of itself. Kid tripped on a large tree root after what had to be at least the fourth or fifth round of those nasties, and what little defenses he'd been able to build were brought down." I sighed and worked to get Nero's coat loose. "He…he's been through a tragedy, Sev. He hasn't had time to heal and harden his heart. Just too soon after losing someone he respected." I locked gazes with the man, frigid blue holding depthless black. "This is why I didn't want him running out there alone."

Severus nodded. "Minevra, inform the students, if you would, that Hunters have had a trying day with a force the younger did not have experience. The matter is being handled."

Boris the House Elf gave me the 'tell me what to do' look. "How can Boris be of assistance, Master Dante Dumbledore, sir?"

"Get a hot chocolate—dark chocolate with mint if you've got it." I managed to get the jacket off of Nero's shoulders and tugged the sleeves down his arms. Boris nodded and disappeared with a _crack_ only to reappear a moment later with another _crack_. A steaming mug of dark chocolate that smelled of mint was clutched in the small, gnarled hands.

Severus stood observing while the deputy headmistress hustled out to manage the children. I propped up my maybe-nephew with an arm behind his shoulders. Boris agilely hopped onto the cot to ease the warm drink into Nero's mouth, where the Kid instinctively swallowed.

The current headmaster slipped into the presumed bath area after a few moments of watching us. I vaguely heard the tap squeak as it was turned and started to fill a tub. "Gladius," Severus called in a low voice, stepping out of the bathroom. Another House Elf appeared with a _crack_ to stand a few feet from Snape. "Go to the Hospital Wing and request two sets of pajamas from Madam Pomfrey. They shall be for the Hunters, so gather the appropriate sizes. When that is complete, turn off the faucet to the bath and aid Boris in caring for the Hunters. Understood?" The new House Elf nodded emphatically before disapparating with a _crack_. That taken care of, Snape returned his attention to cot's occupant. "Madam Pomfrey will likely make a point to check on the boy, Dante. I would advise haste in making yourselves presentable before she arrives. Quite mothering, our Poppy." Black robes billowed in a non-existent breeze as Severus Snape made his exit.

Boris gently pulled the still-warm mug away from Nero's slack mouth. The hot chocolate did its job in taking the figurative edge off of the Dementor's effects. Emotion bled through the blankness of shock in the Kid's face as tears gathered in his eyes and his eyebrows drew closer together. As much as I hate seeing people crying, releasing the emotion behind the tears is always better than keeping it bottled up. Soon enough, Nero's breathing shifted from swift and shallow, to uneven and hitching. Due to close proximity, I could actually feel his chest trembling as he unconsciously tried to control his breath pattern, and his limbs tensed instead of hanging completely limp. Despite the messy improvement, he was mostly unresponsive. The terror was still holding him captive within his mind, within his memory, but now it was being expressed physically.

I resumed my efforts to remove the Kid's jacket. The human arm was easy enough, but the various protrusions of the Devil Bringer were a bit more difficult. Finally freeing him from his own outer garment, I lifted him much like I had earlier while Boris pulled the coat off of the cot. Then we repeated the process with the tough leather vestment, without the lifting. The House Elf began to unknot Nero's boots at the foot of the cot, and I set myself to untucking the Kid's grey undershirt and removing it from his person.

Surprise registered on my face when I glanced toward the servant to check his progress. His knobby knuckles belied the dexterity of his hands. Both boots were set aside and socks well onto their way to the laundry pile as I tossed the grey shirt into the basket. I paused to look over my maybe-nephew.

Laying on his back on the canvas and metal cot, the Holy Knight of Fortuna twitched and jerked as silent tears tracked down his grimy face. Shirtless and barefoot, he looked near defenseless. A few scars marred his pale skin, obviously from before his 'awakening'; they were a little pinker than the unblemished skin. Surprisingly, there didn't seem to be any chest hair on his torso. The little hair on him seemed ultra-fine and about as white as the hair on his head. A thin line of light grey hair, the same color as his eyebrows, trailed south from his navel.

Figuring the response of Nero finding himself cleaned up and in pajamas preferable to the Kid returning to awareness while in the process of being stripped, Boris and I got to work on removing the holster to Blue Rose, then his jeans, and finally his underwear. For the record, _no_, I didn't look at his anatomical equipment.

Gladius finally returned with the customary noise reminiscent of a car backfiring. "Gladius is sorry for wait, sirs. Hard to find sleep garments for strong men when the Hospital Wing usually caters to young teenagers." The House Elf placed two sets of pajamas onto the bed closest to the door before scampering into the bathroom to turn off the tap.

In a flash, Gladius stood next to Boris opposite me across the cot. "Awaiting instruction, Master Dante Dumbledore, sir," the former chirped.

I took about half a second to observe Gladius. A smidgeon shorter than Boris, hands and feet a little smaller as well, and an overall less pruny look. Large hazel eyes accented by long lashes stared unblinkingly at me. The tea cozy toga bulged slightly at the chest. I surmised Gladius was a female, especially after she (I think) commented on the Kid's nudity. "The young sir has generous assets. His lady must be quite pleased." Boris had gaped at his coworker in blatant shock.

I gathered the naked young man to my chest again; one arm supporting his shoulders, and the other under his knees. My joints protested the work for a moment as I took to my feet, but the discomfort eased by the time I stood upright. Leaving the Elves to sort themselves in the main room, I headed for the bathroom.

The tub was of the old, ornate variety, with a wide and deep body and clawed feet. The faucet which poked over the edge seemed a little more modern, as did the drainage pipe connecting the tub to the pipes under the tile floor. Steam rose from the hot water despite the bubbles that engulfed the surface of liquid.

A rectangular stool stood close to the tub. The seat portion appeared intentionally curved inward for more comfortable sitting. A supporting joist ran between each stool leg, the long joists at a different height than the shorter joists. A few feet from the stool perched the sink; a simple rectangular mirror was affixed to the wall above the sink. Across the room from the sink and mirror, a plain toilet sat near the corner with a toilet paper fixture hanging on the adjacent wall.

During the brisk walk into the bathroom, the Kid's distress came to be expressed verbally somewhat. His physical reactions were much the same as before, but now he issued low whimpering moans.

The stool would have been good enough for a coherent person, but Nero wasn't exactly able to sit up on his own yet. I set him onto the toilet. I shoved the stool closer to the tub with one foot, drawing Ebony and Ivory from their holster before setting them onto the stool. Rebellion was soon unsheathed and resting against the wall near the edge of the tub. After my weapons were settled just so, I carelessly stripped off my mostly red leather clothes and boots. I tossed my gloves onto my clothes pile and turned to the Kid. And decidedly ignored Gladius staring at my pelvic region with her wide hazel eyes. If it weren't for Nero's current condition, I'd likely tease and taunt the Elves by swinging my hips to and fro. But the Kid came first in this situation.

I lifted him again and carefully made my way to the waiting bath. I was as cautious as an elderly person stepping into the hot water, one foot at a time, and then lowering myself into the blissful heat. Nero jerked at first contact with the water, weakly kicking in his struggle. I shifted my hold on him, letting his legs kick in front while his back pressed against my chest. After a few minutes, the Kid calmed down, or tired himself out, and stopped his struggling.

For a handful of minutes, we soaked. The hot water helped to ease away soreness and tension from a day of battling Dementors. I rested my head against the back of the oval tub, Nero held against my chest with my arm across his shoulders. Strangely, bathing in the tub with Nero wasn't much different than bathing with Virgil when we were children. Well, aside from the lack of rubber duckies and toy boats...Virge and I always splashed at each other too.

The position itself reminded me of the time Virgil nearly drowned the first time we went to the beach with Mom. Virgil, being the arrogant brat, didn't stretch before swimming like Mom said to and got a Charlie Horse muscle cramp out in the water. I had to swim out to save him. Back then I wasn't a very good swimmer, so making an aquatic mad dash to my brother's rescue and dragging him back to shore took all the younger me had. Mom had been shocked to return from a concession stand to see Virgil and me flopped barely on shore, both of us panting for breath.

A stuttered whisper of "Cre-Credo" brought me back from my reminiscing. Nero seemed to be trying to roll onto his side as his body shuddered, the sound of his crying becoming quietly audible. I lifted my arm, allowing the Kid to curl his body nearly into the fetus position, and tried my best at a comforting embrace. Admittedly, I don't have much experience with 'comforting', so I hoped it didn't seem more like a binding hold to the Kid.

A knock sounded at the main chamber's door, and one of the House Elves answered it. _Huh, I don't remember closing the bathroom door_, I found myself wondering after my instinctive glance to the unadorned wood. A few minutes passed as the Elves spoke with the visitor. At last, a polite knock to the bathroom door. "Come in," I called to whom I assumed was Madam Pomfrey.

The door inched inward as a matronly woman with a white bonnet poked her head in. "Hello, dearies. I'm Poppy Pomfrey, the school Medi-Witch. Gladius said the young man was afflicted by the Dememtors' effects."

I waved her in with the sudsy arm not holding the Kid. "Madam Pomfrey, thanks for coming." The woman stepped inside and closed the door behind her. "The bubbles are holding so you can sit on the stool if you'd like."

She glanced at my guns on the stool and gave a half-hearted tut. "Where would you like me to set your, er, hardware?"

"Sorry about that," my reply was accompanied by a lopsided grin. "You could levitate them onto my pile of clothes." A quick _Wingardium Leviosa_ from the witch and the twin pistols were relocated to my dirty laundry. "Long story short, crazy shit happened in his hometown, Kid was in the middle of it, and a guy he respected was killed. Oh, and his girlfriend was held hostage. And demons were rampaging all over the town. All that happened this winter. _And_ he was sent against Dementors today."

The woman's eyebrows raised in surprise and sympathetic dismay. Nero had a moment of silence before a strangled '_Kyrie_' escaped. Seemingly of its own accord, his Devil Bringer reached out away from his body, as he was trying to snag something out of the air. The fingers flexed as the girl's name tore from his throat again.

I saw Poppy's eyes widen as she obviously couldn't miss seeing the red and glowing blue arm. Her breath hitched as the painful utterance of "_Kyrie!"_ reached her ears. She stood from the stool and approached the tub, the few required strides brisk. The witch drew her wand again and cast several scanning charms over Nero's sudsy person.

"Physically," Madam Pomfrey began, "the young man is fine, a few bruises and scrapes aside. The mental damage, I'm afraid, seems quite severe at the moment. His emotional shielding has been shattered, and the barrier to keep foreign persons from viewing his thoughts, Occlumencey as we call it, has also taken a hard hit. So far, his subconscious is trying to rebuild the barriers and shields. It's having to fight through the memories of the tragedy he's reliving now. However, that his reaction to the memories is becoming more physical is sign of improvement. This means that the subconscious is forcing the harmful memories to the surface, so that other details may be attended to." She paused for a deep breath. "Does that make sense, dear?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "I figured that the physical reaction was him coming out of shock or something." My grin was at maybe a quarter of full wattage as I nodded toward the washcloth and bar of soap on the sink's counter. "Would you mind passing those over? Still need to wash up."

The Medi-witch gave a short bark of laughter. "Forgot a step, did you?" She fetched the hygiene items and dutifully passed them over. Boris managed to slip into the room without Gladius. Several washcloths were piled in his arms and seemed larger than they actually were due to his diminutive size. Madam Pomfrey noticed him at her side and graciously accepted the additional cloths. "Thank you, Boris, dear. Always so very considerate."

The House Elf bowed, "Tis my honor, Madam." He offered a wobbling smile in my direction, to which I nodded acknowledgement, before making his leave.

With the extra washcloths, Poppy and I set to wash Nero as best we could. He kept jerking as the unfamiliar fabric made contact with his skin. Fortunately, the Kid was settled far enough under the water that the healer didn't get an eyeful of his, _ahem_, natural attributes despite his thrashing. The thick layer of bubbles helped cover his modesty too. The witch pumped a fair handful of shampoo from one of the many spouts from near the faucet; I had to hold the Kid still as Pomfrey worked up a lather into his hair. Eventually, I had to hold him against my chest so that the woman could wash his back. We teamed up again to rinse out the shampoo, and again for a little conditioner.

I let the Madam hold Nero on the other end of the tub. She supported him by the shoulders as he leaned against the edge. I took the time to scrub myself down, but edged close enough for Poppy to wash my back. I handled my own hair.

Boris returned with towels, and Madam Pomfrey made an exit. I collected my maybe-nephew into my arms again. Suddenly, his arms latched around my shoulders, his face tucked against my neck, as he broke into heavy sobs. I could feel his legs tremble, trying to hold his weight. With a sigh, I leaned down enough to catch under his legs with one arm, holding him against my chest with the other arm. The Kid's fingernails and claws dug into the skin of my back, just shy of drawing blood. I tilted my chin towards his head and murmured soothing noises.

Boris had a towel ready on the floor when I stepped out of the tub and another ready to dry off my feet and legs. A third lay flat over the seat of the stool, which I took advantage of. I sat on the stool, the House Elf sent a fourth towel to lie over my lap, I lowered Nero onto my covered lap, and Boris went to drying what he could reach from his position on the floor and the stool's rungs. Boris passed yet another towel to me, and I set to drying the Kid as best I could.

Gladius entered the bathroom with both sets of pajamas piled her arms. "The top set is for the young knight and the second for Master Dante." She blatantly oogled our naked selves. Boris took the top set of PJs and got them started up Nero's legs. Luckily for the Elf, the Kid wasn't struggling or kicking anymore.

Five minutes later, Nero was tucked snuggly in the bed furthest from the door. Cotton pajamas of blue and red plaid adorned his body. Boris managed to produce some fuzzy blue socks from somewhere and stuck them on the Kid's feet before we tucked him in. The Fortuna-born hunter was pretty peaceful laying there…aside from the occasional twist or jerk. Yeah, it'll be fun helping him get untangled from the bedclothes later—please note the sarcasm.

Of course, I sat on my own bed near the door. My trusted partners, Ebony and Ivory, rested on the nightstand while Rebellion leaned against the wall. The PJs lent to me were red and black plaid, and cut in old-man-style. Not quite flattering, but they were clean and they fit well enough. Gladius had gathered the Kid's and my dirty laundry, squeaking something about having them clean in a few hours. Between all the leather, embellishments, and various other details, a few hours is pretty good time.

A telltale _crack_ sounded from the center of the room, earning a full-body jerk from Nero, to announce the presence of another House Elf. Large weepy eyes stared up at me. Flip-flops adorned the little gnarled feet, a skirt of modest length and extra ruffles covered the lower portions, and a tank top completed the outfit. The children's clothing declared the new addition to be a 'freed' Elf. And she was not happy with that. Stains littered her shirt and skirt, both bearing some tears as well. The flip-flops seemed to be in decent condition, though.

With a gesture of a bony hand, she levitated my guns to rest on one of my pillows. Another gesture and a tea service set appeared on the nightstand. "Winky hopes the fair is acceptable, Mister Dante, sir," her squeaky voice warbled.

I caught the look Boris sent my way. It pleaded, '_please be kind to her_'. "I'm sure it will be fine, Winky. Thank you for bringing it up."

The male House Elf spoke up as Winky bowed low. "Sir, WInky has worked hard here at Hogwarts since her arrival. Another House Elf, Dobby, coached her for some time and watched over her. Winky has made great improvements recently…"

Winky wailed, throwing her stick-like arms up and collapsing to her knees. "Dobby is gone! Dobby left to help Harry Potter boy and never returned! Where is Dobby?" Small balled fists stuck the stone flooring.

Boris paled. "Er, Winky has formed a bit of a dependency on Dobby, sir. And Dobby has been gone for some time."

I stood to my full height and easily crossed the room to where Winky knelt on the floor. Before either Elf could react, I dropped into a crouch, snatched up the distraught female, and cradled her in my arms. _Must be mindful of own strength_, I reminded myself. _Wouldn't do to crush her by accident_. I returned to my perch with the tiny burden held to my chest.

The hysterical Elf struggled in my hold. Those small fists smacked against my pectorals. Her feet kicked ineffectively. The only thing she did that hurt me in any way was her wailing, which had gone wordless in her despair. My ears would be ringing for a few minutes. Eventually she settled down, clinging to the plaid pajama shirt with both hands while her face pressed to my chest as she cried.

The closest I've ever come to comforting a female this small would be the times Patty wakes up from a nightmare in my shop. I still don't get why such a girly-girl like Patty would want to hang around my shop when she's not in school or due back at the orphanage. I'd protect her as long as demons were after her, though. Sheesh, sometimes I am such a softy when it comes to kids.

Thinking of what worked to calm Patty, I started rubbing circles in the House Elf's back and humming a tune my mother used to sing to Virgil and me. An oddball thought occurred to me after a minute or so. Patty was spending less time at my shop since she was reunited with her mom. I kinda took for granted all the cleaning the girl did. I could use a House Elf. I'd just have to tell Lady and Trish about the Elf so they wouldn't kill it, is all.

At last Winky collapsed in exhaustion. I still held her against me and rubbed circles. "Boris, could you make sure she rests comfortably?"

The male Elf had watched the fiasco with wonder. The posed question snapped his out of his stare. "Of course, Master Dante Dumbledore, sir!" With that, Boris collected the passed out Winky and disaparated with the usual _crack_.

A glance across the room revealed the Kid squinting at me. If it weren't for the bedhead, the look could almost be considered accusatory. As it was, he looked too sleepy to really care. I reheated the tea in its pot and poured two cups. I put a fair amount of sugar in Nero's and carried it to him. The younger hunter sniffed the steaming liquid before taking a tentative sip. I stood watch as Nero drank the rest of his tea. He passed the cup back and snuggled back into his blankets.

I returned to my bed and leisurely sipped at my own tea. When I was sure the Kid was asleep again, I summoned Nevan to my side. The scythe-guitar gleamed in the dim lighting of the room, and she took to her true form after I pushed power into her. Long red hair parted in the middle lay to modestly cover her otherwise bare bussom. Well, as modestly as a topless woman can be. Pale skin glistened and her lower regions were hidden from view by the darkest of black acting as a skirt. Nevan idly kicked her feet as she reclined on the bed beside me.

"Hmmmm," she purred in my ear, knowing full well that I was immune to her charms, "surely there is a reason you have called me, Dante."

The next five minutes were of me telling the Devil Arm She-Devil about my plan and insuring that said She-Devil was capable of performing her part. After giving confirmation of her abilities, Nevan slunk off the bed and crossed the room to where the Kid lay.

I watched as the Devil Arm studied my maybe-nephew. "As handsome as his forefather," I heard Nevan whisper. She perched on the edge of his bed and finger-combed his white hair. The Kid leaned into her touch, his unconscious mind reacting to a gentle touch.

"Ah, Nevan?" I spoke up before _something_ popped up, "Kid's hotspot. Be careful." The She-Devil threw a wink over her shoulder and continued her ministrations. I rolled my eyes, fingers crossed and hoping that she knew what she was doing.

Nevan leaned over the Kid and breathed in his aura. To the casual observer, it would appear that she was smelling his hair. "Hmmm, lovely shampoo. What is this? Raspberry?" Okay, so maybe she was sniffing him while breathing in his energy overflow. A blink later, and the She-Devil was curled up on top of the blanket, still stroking Nero's hair.

Honestly, I sighed in relief. I wasn't sure how the demonic songstress would take to the Kid. That she cuddled up to him, was being so gentle instead of dominating, suggested that she wouldn't hurt him. Instead, Nevan lay there siphoning off his replenishing energy. I know that sounds counterproductive, but the Kid would come to understand later. Dementor attacks are always followed by the most horrific nightmares imaginable. If the Kid had a nightmare, one he couldn't immediately break free from, he could Devil Trigger and attack anything that moved. Not a pleasant thought.

Finally, I burrowed under the black and grey comforter and tried for sleep. The best I could do at that point is to trust Nevan to help the Kid stay calm through the night.

.-^_^-. (Dream Sequence, Nero's POV)

_I was warm. That was the first thing that registered, that I was warm. Familiar clothes covered me; felt like my usual hunting gear. I couldn't tell if I was standing, sitting, or laying down. I almost felt like I was floating. Floating…Like when I was unconscious within the Savior statue. A hand brushed over my hair, again and again._

_I opened my eyes, and it took more effort than I thought it would. I had to blink several times before I could open my eyes fully. The lighting was dim, and the room seemed familiar. Again, the hand at my hair. _

_I sat up sluggishly. It felt like my body was made of lead and in need of a good oiling. But when I raised my eyes to see the one petting my head, Kyrie came into view. She wore the ceremonial dress of the Songstress of the Order of the Sword with her hair pulled back. She smiled at me with her sweet, soft smile._

"_Nero," she said slowly, "please get up. I need to talk to you." With the utterance of those words, she backed away from the bedside._

_I realized with a jolt that this room was the guest bedroom I had occupied at Kyrie and Credo's house. The walls were painted a neutral cream, the baseboards the same wood-stain as the floor, and the windowsill a supposedly cheery white. The bed was a full-sized mattress in a relatively simple sleigh frame. Chests of drawers and a vanity stood against the walls in their bold mahogany-stained color._

_I struggled to push my legs over the side of the bed after finding myself sitting on the heavy winter quilt. I wiggled closer to the edge of the mattress, or tried to at least. Why did I feel so weak?_

_Kyrie stepped closer. "What's wrong, Nero?" She lifted my left hand from the heavy quilt's surface, and suddenly I felt as though a great weight had been pushed off of my body._

_I stood at last from the still-made bed. I switched my hold on Kyrie's hand so that I gently clutched it to my chest. "You wanted to talk?" I asked. My voice was always so kind when I talk to her, it just is. Words come so much rougher when I speak to other people, but always…tender, I guess, to Kyrie._

_Her wide eyes stared up at my pale blue. "I," she hesitated for a moment, "I want to accept you, Nero. All of you, including your arm. Credo needed patching up enough times for me to gather knowledge of most of a man's body…Privates aside, of course. I know that most of you must be like any other man, but your arm is different. Please, Nero, let me see."_

_I couldn't figure out if I paled or blushed at that sentiment. My cheeks burned, but the rest of my face suddenly felt cold. I nodded consent to her request. Releasing her hand, I shrugged out of my denim jacket, letting it fall to the floor. My left hand pulled down the zipper on my hardened-leather red hoodie, and it joined the jacket directly behind me. I had to use both hands to untuck my grey undershirt and pull it over my head, only to let it flop somewhere off to the side._

_I had kept my gaze trained on her face as I undressed. Her eyes remained staring at mine as she held one hand to her chest while the other hung at her side. I smiled at the faint dusting of pink on her cheeks as her gaze lowered to my torso. Kyrie raised her hands to about her waist and hesitated before setting those nurturing hands onto my shoulders. Slowly, oh so delicately even, her hands trailed from where my shoulders met neck outward to the junctions of shoulder and arm. I let her explore my bared upper body ay her own pace, which was really slow. Thorough, but slow._

_Finally, Kyrie's attention came to rest on my right arm. The Devil Bringer. She started at the fingertip—or I guess I should say claw-tips—and worked her way up. Her fingers, soft with minimal callousing, explored the ridges, the textures, and protrusions. I couldn't help the faint shudders that trailed up and down my back. _

_Even after the Savior incident, I kept the arm covered and avoided using it except for fighting demons. The citizens of Fortuna weren't ready to acknowledge one of their own had demon blood, let alone was a descendent of the Savior himself. Traveling outside of Fortuna certainly was no time to go off flashing a glowing blue limb for all to see. But I could use the arm freely in demon slaying—people avoided the monsters so no one would be there to see the arm. I had gotten used to it for necessary personal tasks such as bathing and dressing. Right now, with her quisitive touches, I had to force myself to control my breathing into something normal. The caresses made me want to pant for some reason._

_Kyrie's curious fingers reached just past the elbow protrusion at last. From there the skin became smoother and softer, more like normal skin. The texture blended from one extreme to the other between the elbow and the attached shoulder. The discoloration vaguely resembled flames, fading as it trailed higher up the arm. Her hands came to a stop at my shoulder, where she rested her cheek against her right hand._

"_Thank you, Nero, for letting me see and try to understand this arm." Her eyes closed as a small smile tugged at her lips._

_I smiled down at her, knowing my face was as relaxed and soft as it got. As gently as I could manage, I shifted my weight and brought the Devil Bringer to lightly lay across the small of Kyrie's back. My effort was rewarded as she giggled and nuzzled my shoulder. Her arms lowered to encircle my waist. We stood like that for a long while. Eventually she raised her head and smiled at me sweetly. I kissed her forehead, just a peck really, and held her a little more firmly._

_If she and I were to duplicate this scene in public (except for me having at least a shirt on) in Fortuna, the rumor-mongers would start trouble. I had come to realize in my ventures outside the city that we of Fortuna are extremely sheltered from the rest of the world. Where a couple cuddling as we were in, say, New York, people would coo 'Oh, such a cute couple' and be on their way. In Fortuna, well, we're much more reserved as a whole. So I took immense pleasure in simply holding my songstress so near. As a much appreciated bonus, I could feel the softness of her pressing against my bare chest. The stiff leather hoodie would have blocked so much sensation from reaching my body, and without it, I could feel her very heartbeat so close to mine._

_Even as I enjoyed the physical closeness, I couldn't help but to wonder the dynamics of our relationship. I remember thinking of her as a sister to watch over when we were little. When did it change? For ages, we were best friends. When did it shift to something more? I think Credo realized it before I did, at any rate._

_Something shifted at the corner of my vision. My head whipped around to look, only to land on the mirror attached to the wall. Something was off in the reflection, though. In the reflection, a pale blue-ish green skinned woman stood outside the closed window behind us._ _Some sort of black skirt was situated over her very feminine hips. Long red hair hung unhindered down her back. Her back was to the room, but she would glance over her shoulder to glimpse at us. Holy Savior, I think she was topless! _

_But…That can't be right. If she stood outside the window, then her shadow would be seen on wall in front of me. There wasn't a shadow from outside on that wall. I watched that demon-woman in the mirror. Scarecrow demons leapt up to slash her but were repelled by a wave of her hand. The gesture sent a wave of electrified bats after the Scarecrows. Still, the wall opposite from the window didn't have a play of corresponding shadows._

_A knock sounded at the door to the hall. Kyrie untangled herself from our embrace to answer the door demurely. Once seeing who was on the other side, she pulled the door wide to admit the visitor. _

_Credo stood just beyond the doorway, clothed in his formal wear for the Order. His stance was ram-rod straight with his hands recently clasped behind his back and his usual scowl on his face. If his face wasn't full of frown lines, he might have been attractive for a man. Of course, his line of work seldom gave reason for wide smiles and hearty laughter._

_Something…something was off. At first I couldn't figure out was wrong with the man standing before me. It wasn't that I was standing close to the bed, shirtless. The feeling wasn't due to the Devil Bringer being exposed either; the arm wasn't even glowing in warning. Considering I stood within a room in his house, his presence should be more or less expected._

_A memory floated to the surface of my mind, the images vague and hazy. In the memory, I approached Credo on my way to Headquarters. The memory was of the fight between Credo and me, just before Agnus kidnapped Kyrie. The image shifted to the fuzzy recollection of when the Savior statue clutched me in its massive hand. Credo had appeared and attempted to stop Sanctus. Admittedly, I could hardly see over the enormous knuckles that held me damn near motionless. But Credo, Kyrie's brother and the man standing before me now, had been run through with Yamato. The captain of Fortuna's knights had died that day trying to save his sister._

_I felt tears gather in my eyes as I stared at him. Credo entered the room, his stride neither hesitant nor overly prideful. Credo's usual walk within his own home. A lump clogged my throat as my bottom lip trembled slightly. The captain halted just a few feet from me, just out of arm's reach. His hard hazel eyes scoured over the Devil Bringer and my exposed torso. Those eyes softened when his gaze met mine._

_A single blink later and I found myself clutched to his chest, Credo's arms encircling my shoulders and mine around his waist. My face was in the crook of his neck, and my adoptive brother smelled like he always had despite the formal suit. Moments passed in a blur, and then Kyrie wiggled her way into the embrace, making it a three-way group hug. My human arm rested against the small of her back, while Credo's right arm hung over her shoulders. The three of us clung to one another tightly._

.-^_^-. (Dante's POV continues from here)

There are times when I despise my internal clock. There are times when I appreciate my body's determination to have me awake at a certain time. This morning was a combination of both.

I groggily rolled out of bed, my blankets following me off the mattress. The cold stone floor sent a jolt through me. _Damn, the floor's friggin' cold!_ I shuddered before ignoring the chill and crossing the room to Nero's bed.

The Kid lay curled around two pillows, his face buried in one while the other was held to his side. Still in her humanoid form, Nevan remained behind my maybe-nephew. She warily eyed me from her position, her hand still stroking the Kid's hair.

"How is he?" was the first thing to leave my mouth. I managed to keep my voice soft since the Kid was still asleep.

The She-Devil propped herself up onto her elbow and sighed. "His energy has been fairly calm, master. I forced his subconscious mind to deal with the stress of grieving instead of recent battles. His emotional state should be a bit more stable now. However, he still has a long way to go before he can face Dementors again."

I nodded, glad that I trusted Nevan to watch over the Kid. I suppressed a smirk at a very random thought: _the son of a witch and half-Devil is a Holy Knight, pffft! _Yeah, not helping matters. I knelt beside the bed and pulled one of the pillows away from Nero's face. The pillow was wet near his eyes, obviously having caught the tears before they could trail down the boy's face.

I hesitated. _Boy_. I called him a boy in my mind. Granted the Kid was roughly half my age, and I age well. But still, I called him a boy in my head. Despite the demonic arm and everything he had persevered through, I thought of him as a boy just now. Maybe it was just the bedhead and the crying making his eyes puffy, plus his face relaxed in sleep.

I let go of the pillow and watched as Nero snuggled his face back into the fluffiness. A sigh passed between my lips as I ran a hand through my hair. My tangled, sleep-tussled hair. _Argh_. A wave to Nevan to signal 'at ease', and I turned to my nightstand. My clothes were laid out waiting for me, neatly folded. I heard the She-Devil's purr of appreciation when I changed out of the pajamas, most assuredly giving her an eye-full in the process. My clothes had been given the complete treatment by the House Elves. Each buckle and metal stud gleamed in the meager lighting of a few hovering candles. All the leather (and there was a lot of leather) shown with a shine of polish, even the leather embellishments on the butt pockets of my jeans.

Dressed in my own clothes again, I took care of morning hygiene in the bathroom. Ya know, brushing teeth, floss, washing face, combing hair. That sort of thing. At long last, I deemed myself presentable and headed for the Great Hall.

The kiddies were at their tables again, munching on breakfast. Several teachers sat at the adult table, while the others were likely preparing for the first classes of the day.

Filius Flitwick noticed me first. "Ah, good morning. Please take a seat with us today," he squeaked while gesturing to the chair next to him.

"Morning, Professor," I returned with a good-natured smile. After all, I wasn't the only half-breed at the table. The half-giant, Rubeus Hagrid wasn't in attendance this morning, though. I took the place next to tiny professor and filled my plate with various breakfast foods. Scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage gravy and buscuits, some sort of pastry, and all looking especially tasty. I'm proud to say that I had at least acceptable table manners as I ate.

Flitwick and I exchanged idle chit-chat during the meal. Professor Sprout added a few queries to the conversation. All in all, an hour passed uneventfully. When at last my belly was full, I stood from the table, bid the professors a farewell, and returned to the room at the back of the hall.

Nero and Nevan lay the same as I left them earlier. I collected my weapons and returned them to their rightful places on my person. I leveled a serious look to the She-Devil. "Nevan, try to make sure the Kid doesn't do anything too strenuous today. He's still recovering from the Dementors, after all."

She nodded her understanding. "The defenses of his mind and heart are still weak. Further rest will help in recuperating. I understand, Master."

Imparting a final look-over, I left the impromptu bedroom and passed through the Great Hall. I ignored the lingering stare of the students as I made my way out of the castle and toward the Forbidden Forest. Already, I could sense the Dementors deep within the forest. I stood outside the tree-line just a few moments more, enjoying the feel on sunlight on my face, before weaving between the thick trunks.

.-^_^-.

**AN:** Alrighty, everyone! Chapter 5 is finally finished. Again, I do apologize for the long wait. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	6. Chapter 6: Lingering Frailty

Of Wizards and Demons: Hogsmeade's Devil Hunter

AN: Welcome back for sixth installment! So, so, so sorry to the excessive wait, folks!

Special thanks to _whisperfur_**,** _Hakan_ _Kurohi_**, **_Aslook_**,** _Anton_-_The_-_Rogue_**,** _Nefarious_ _Seraph_ _13_**,** _Lang_ _Noi_**, **_Winter_ _Yuy_, _truevampireprincess_, _Kirazu_ _Haruka_, _janechong_, _The_ _Master_ _Insaniac_, _Lucifer's_ _Remnants_, _Alex T. Wallman_**,** _Houtori_**,** _ . __**,**__ tbcassie_**, **_Jade Wylkyns_**,** Gimlifan8**,** GrayHeart**,** _SeanHicks4_**, **_ShadowTheAngel_**, **_Twin_ _Kats_**,** _Devils_ _Advocate_ _Agent_ _of_ _Hell_**,** _Cade_ _Mistral_**, **_Purple_ _Pallbearer_**, **_rjectkd89_**,** and _BleachedFighter_ for the Alert-adds, Favorites, and Reviews!

Also, please note that I do not own the rights to the Devil May Cry franchise or the Harry Potter series. I'm just, er, borrowing them for now.

Chapter 6: Lingering Frailty

.-^_^-.

As Dante plunged into the Forbidden Forest on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Patty Lowell sat up. The sight of the Hospital Wing greeted her tired eyes, eyes which she rubbed at sleepily with the sleeve of her pajamas. A detention with the Carrows ended with Patty losing her temper, and the Carrows (she can't remember which one) broke her arm in the backlash.

Her first year in a magical school turned not much different than her trip into Hell last year. All she needs is a dashing man in red to rush in at the last second to save her, and then it would be just the same. Patty sighed heavily.

"Dante," the child whispered, "I wish you were here."

.-^_^-.

Nevan resettled herself around Nero's sleeping form. The She-Devil maintained peace within the boy's dreams and syphoned off his slowly rising demonic energy. Her master's orders were very clear—do what she must to keep this descendant of Sparda from Devil Triggering within the school. The Demoness was happy to oblige her master, this order in particular. The boy's energy tasted so vibrant to her sensitive tongue, and his back so very firm against her flesh.

Her musings were disturbed by the sharp _crack_ of a House Elf appearing in the room. The boy jerked in surprise at the sudden sound, blue eye snapping open only to widen as they focused on Nevan's pale face so close to his. Nero reacted as many would react to a stranger lying next to them in bed. He tried to put as much distance between them as possible, and the result was that he fell in heap on the stone floor, still tangled in the blanket.

The House Elf managed to ignore the commotion, setting the tea tray onto the desk. Jackalobe, the House Elf, turned around to announce breakfast to the young hunter. Words clogged Jackalobe's throat at the sight of the un-human woman's bared assets, and the elf blushed fiercely.

Nero stared at the Devil still upon the bed. The bed he was asleep in moments ago. She was _there_ while he was _sleeping_! Oh, Savior, where were Red Queen and Blue Rose? The Holy Knight struggled in his bindings, terrified that the She-Devil had tied him up to snack on later. His human arm was free and flailing between bouts of trying to shove himself away from the grinning Devil.

In his panic, the young hunter completely forgot about the strength of his Devil Bringer. He didn't notice the House Elf in the room. However, his frantic movements paused when the She-Devil threw her head back to give a hearty laugh. The boy started shuffling away again as Nevan's eyes returned to his prone form.

Nevan rose from the bed, her form surrounded by cackling electricity, before she lowered herself to a sitting position on the mattress. She drew the electricity into a bright ball in one hand then let it fizzle out. "Hmmmmm," she purred at the boy. "A descendant of Sparda. A fresh child to bear his noble blood in his veins." Nevan leaned forward to rest her elbows on her crossed knees, her arms accenting her womanly torso in open display. She laughed again as she stood to her bare feet. "Fear not, Nero. I am Nevan, a Devil Arm. My master, Dante, left me to watch over you in his absence."

Long, clawed toes, Nero noted as the She-Devil began to walk a circle around him. He wondered if her words were true or if she was leading him to a false sense of security. "What do you want?" he managed to rasp. Tension and just-waking-up thirst constricted his words.

The She-Devil stopped in her circle around the boy and knelt close to his knees. "For starters, let's get you out of those blankets. You're pretty tangled in them."

.-^_^-.

Dante battled Dementor after soul-sucking Dementor within the gloom of the Forbidden Forest. Rebellion slashed and stabbed at the monsters; Ebony and Ivory shot round after round at the horrible creatures. Energy cackled around the hunter's form, his Devil Trigger active.

Despite having been in the woods for at least two hours and fighting nearly the whole time, Dante continued to attack steadily. He had lost count of how many Dementors were felled this morning. Fatigue had yet to set in, although his stomach growled for a snack. Considering the Dementors that swarmed in wave after wave, their stomachs must have had the same idea.

The Devil Hunter switched Rebellion for Alastor, and let the sword of vengeance zoom from one monstrosity to another. Dante himself reached into one of his many pockets and retrieved a granola bar.

.-^_^-.

After the startling waking with Nevan in his face and the resulting untangling from blankets, Nero got dressed in the bathroom. The She-Devil had pouted as he gathered his clothes and shut the door behind himself. Jackalobe used Elf magic to keep the simple breakfast warm until the young hunter emerged fully clothed.

Nero tentatively opened the door connecting the bedroom to the Great Hall. The large dining area was empty except for the tables, chairs, and benches. Not even one of the school's ghosts roamed the chamber. The partially demonic knight glanced at the bed closest to the door. Nevan had returned to her Devil Arm form atop the straightened bedclothes. The Devil Bringer reflected off the old, glossy door as he stepped into the Great Hall.

With nothing better to do, Nero decided to wander the halls of Hogwarts.

.-^_^-.

Patty Lowell huffed in irritation as Madam Pomfry cast another set of scanning charms over the child. The arm was mending nicely. Usually, the medi-witch would have healed the arm right away and sent the girl back to classes. That would have been under normal circumstances, however. With the sadistic Carrow siblings in the school, Poppy was less inclined to send the students back to the abuse of that pair.

"Miss Lowell," Madame Pomfry sighed, "as much as you need to be in your classes, I think this arm needs a little more time to settle properly. I'll send a note to your teachers excusing you for the day. You stay here and rest."

Patty snuggled back into the covers as the older witch returned to her office, presumably to write the notes. _Other than the Carrows_, the girl thought, _classes were going well in the magical school_. True, the Slytherins were obnoxious to the other Houses, but not all of the House of Snakes were openly venomous. Some seemed to just be there, not assisting the hate-mongers, but not opposing them either.

The blond girl had been informed by a more neutral Slytherin that "Mud-Bloods" were banned from attending Hogwarts, as they came from "Muggle", or Non-Magical, parents. "Half-Bloods" came from a Magical parent and a Non-Magical parent or at the very least, had a Magical ancestor in close relation. Patty told that Slytherin that the Ministry's supposed explanation of how a Muggle-born witch or wizard didn't make the least bit of sense; the other child had shrugged indifference. That conversation had occurred during the neutral ground of Professor Flitwick's Charms class.

Still, one civil conversation with a single student of a supposedly opposite House didn't make up for the way the rest of the Slytherins acted. Nor did it excuse how the other Houses treated the House of Snakes as a whole, to Patty's mind. Especially after the looks she had received from her Housemates for that snippet of conversation.

After all, Patty was a child whose life had be saved by a half-Devil several times and held polite conversation with a full-Devil once. Indeed, Patty Lowell was appropriately sorted into the House of the Brave.

.-^_^-.

Dante stumbled out of the Forbidden Forest on the side of Hogsmeade's train station. In the strangely quiet air, his stomach rumbled its complaint. The man in red trudged down High Street towards the Hog's Head. A light drizzle had started up while the Hunter scoured the forest for Dementors; the foliage of the trees had kept him mostly dry, but he became drenched not even half-way to his grandfather's establishment.

A chime echoed in the pub as Dante pushed the door open. The crowd was meager for lunch time, but then Aberforth never was much of a cook. The pub owner himself seemed less than enthused.

"Dante, my boy," the old man rasped to his grandson. "Patrols have been tighter today. They found one of the Death Eaters dead in an alleyway, assumed Avada Kedavra as the cause of death."

One of the more regular patrons added, "Fat louse was always tryin' to cause trouble, so it don't surprise me a wink that he got himself killed. Pro'lly over somethin' stupid." Most of the pub's motley group raised their various drinks in a salute or cheers and promptly took long swallows.

Aberforth passed a soup of unknown ingredients to Dante as the crowd quieted down. The Devil Hunter just shook his head in amusement before picking up the proffered spoon.

.-^_^-.

Nero strode down yet another of the many halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Occasionally, the Hunter would peek inside a classroom to see what lessons were conducted. Some had bookwork, others wand-waving, and one was taught by a Centaur.

Several times since leaving the bedchamber connected to the Great Hall, Nero had found himself swarmed by children of various ages as the kids scurried to their next classes. The youths had given him wide eyes and a wider berth as they passed him. And then there were the ghosts.

The Grey Lady of Ravenclaw snubbed her nose at him before phasing through a wall to avoid him. The Fat Friar did humble-nervous bob then ducked inside an unused classroom. Nearly-Headless Nick tipped his head in a bow, exposing the gruesome half-assed beheading's results, and continued on his merry, ghostly way. The Bloody Barron just glared figurative daggers as the young man passed. Peeves the Poltergeist was entirely different from the other lingering spirits, Nero had come to find.

Potty-Mouth Peeves, as the Fortuna-native dubbed him, had cackled like a loony escaped from the mental ward. Very solid bottles of ink, various random potions, and cream pies had been hurled at the young Hunter by the notorious spirit. All the while, Peeves had been spewing a litany of offensive language. Granted, Nero himself wasn't a verbal saint, but the poltergeist could really use a bar of soap to the mouth.

Nero ducked into a classroom at random to escape the spirit, slamming the door shut behind himself. The sound of shattering glass of more ink or potions trembled through the aged wood. The Hunter closed his eyes in a sigh before leaning his back against the door. Three deep breaths later, blue eyes opened to see the classroom decidedly not empty.

Professor McGonagall stood tall at the head of the room, and all the children had turned in their seats to regard the white-haired youth. The strict-looking witch arched an eyebrow, "Can I help you, young man?"

The partial-Devil grinned sheepishly. "The, ah, poltergeist", the thumb of his human left hand jerked over the Hunter's shoulder, "doesn't like me, apparently."

The witch gave an exasperated huff before drawing her wand from within her long sleeve. Determined, purposeful strides carried her toward the door. "Move aside, lad. I'll see what I can do about Peeves." When the young man wasn't quick enough to distance himself from the entryway, the professor waved the length of wood towards him and Nero found himself stumbling as the door pushed from behind.

Nero ducked into an empty desk just as Professor McGonagall shouted into the hall. "PEEVES!"

.-^_^-.

Dante wandered around the Forbidden Forest yet again. _Seems the Dementors are getting smart to my plan_, he mused. The coming and going from the forest had been effective until recently, as in the last hour or so. The man in red shrugged his shoulders to release the building tension brought on by the lack of activity; Rebellion swung in its sheath, and Ebony and Ivory shifted in their holsters.

He had already passed by the thestrals' pin, idly patting a couple on the snout as they snuffed at him curiously. A few acromatula had crossed his path, which he promptly shot and/or stabbed. Dante had asked the Centaurs about where the soul-sucking buggers could be hiding or where their layer may be and had been told to head into the deepest, darkest part of the forest. _Figures they'd hide there of all places_, Dante had mentally complained. _Nooooo, can't make it easy for once. Naw, just cluster in the most inconvenient location to get to._

The thick, towering trees reached seemingly forever skyward, blotting out most sunlight. The nearly identical trunks and foliage dampened the Hunter's sense of direction, to make matters worse. This deep into the forest, the wind was nearly nonexistent, leaving the atmosphere cold yet muggy. And dank, as one would associate the word dank with musty, mildew-y smells.

At long last, a Dementor swooped past Dante. The Hunter gave a whoop of delight, drew Rebellion from his back, and chased after the ghastly cloak.

.-^_^-.

When the professor had first entered the hallway to confront the mischievous spirit, the mix of chemicals hadn't bothered him; then it itched, which led to a burning feeling, and discomfort of swelling. Nero had been a sight to behold when McGonagall had finished giving Peeves a verbal lashing.

After dealing with the Poltergeist, Professor McGonagall examined the Knight Nero for injury. The glass from the ink bottles and potion vials had cut the skin, and some areas were inflamed from the various substances. A spell to remove the ink, bits of cream pies, and other unidentified liquids revealed some bruises already forming.

The older woman sighed. "Looks like you'll need to see Madame Pomphrey for treatment, young man. It seems some of the potions are reacting to you and each other." She turned her attention to her class, the whole room watched the exchange in fascination. "Prepare to leave for your next class, children. This session is almost over. Considering we didn't finish this lesson, homework will be to write a six-inch report on what we started today. Details please, as you have a little working knowledge from class."

The white-haired youth followed obediently as the witch caught his elbow and led him into the hall. "Sorry to be a bother, ma'am," the Hunter offered a weak smile.

"None of that, dear," she consoled him. "But I must ask—why are you not with Dante in the Forest? He was to teach you how to hunt Dementors, correct?

Nero hung his head. "I was just slowing him down. And he was too worried about me to really concentrate, I guess. So, Old Man left without me this morning." He let loose an angry scoff, "Too much of a damn liability to take back out there."

McGonagall held her tongue, unsure how to respond. Instead, the Deputy Headmistress kept her brisk pace through the halls, one hand firmly on the young man's elbow. The twists and turns, stairs and corridors all passed swiftly under the woman's ground-covering march. The tall double doors of the Hospital Wing seemed to jump at them when the pair rounded the final corner.

For such a willowy woman, Nero noted, she hefted the door open as if it weighed nothing. "Poppy," McGongall called into the spacious chamber. A number of narrow beds were curtained off from one another down one side of the room while nearly floor-to-ceiling arched windows lined the other side.

Another witch soon hustled into sight from a door tucked just out of notice. "Yes, Minerva?"

The transfiguration instructor patted the Knight's shoulder as she regarded the medi-witch. "He's in your care." With a flurry of robes, the professor turned about and left Nero staring at the school's matron.

.-^_^-.

Hagrid sipped from his cup (small bucket) of tea in the comfort of his hut. The hearth burned brightly while the half-giant's massive dog, Fang, lounged in the woven basket that served as his bed. A knock sounded at the hut's door, and Fang rose to bark before lowering himself with a whimper.

"Ah, you jes' be quiet now, Fang," Hagrid ambled onto his feet, popped his back with a stretch, and approached the door. "Now, who could tha' be out there at this time o' day?" With a creak like splintering wood, Rubeus Hagrid pulled the wooden beast of a front door away from the jam.

On the bottom step stood a man in red and black, but the colors were almost completely obscured by mud. A single flick of hair remained pristinely white. Pale blue eyes crinkled as the mud-splattered man grinned up at the gaping groundskeeper. "Hey, there. Mind helping me out? I can't go in the castle like this, ya know. Don't wanna get on the bad side of the House Elves."

Birds flew from the trees at the bellowing laughter that echoed across the grounds. Ten minutes later, the man in red shivered as the fourth large bucket of water was unceremoniously dumped over his head. A hose pipe with a sprayer nozzle would have been great, but Hagrid's hut was doing good to have a manual water pump out back. Dante consoled himself that he'd spell himself dry then get cozy and warm within the castle.

The fifth bucket of water was left on the ground, as per instruction from Dante. The Keeper of the Keys lifted the smaller man by the collar of his coat and dropped him into the bucket clothed and all. From there, Dante did his best impersonation of a modern Muggle washing machine.

.-^_^-.

Upon hearing no-nonsense Professor McGonagall utter "he's in your care", curiosity instantly overtook the blond first year as she lay in her bed. Tossing her covers aside, Patty Lowell crept to the foot of the bed and tried craning her neck to see just who was now in Madame Pomfrey's care. The Gryffindor was easily thwarted by her mending arm and the drawn curtains blocking her view of the entryway.

"What happened, dearie?" the medi-witch asked of the new-comer.

An unfamiliar voice of a young man, too young to be a teacher and too old to be a student, scoffed. "Peeves threw random stuff at me. Hell if I know where he pulled it all from or what most of it was."

"Humm," Poppy cast several diagnostic charms over the man and made other contemplative sounds as she reviewed the results. "Not too bad, considering what all seems to be mixed here. Nero, was it?" A slight pause, "Nero, take a seat on one of the beds—doesn't matter which, dear—and I'll gather some potions to heal the wounds. Sit tight."

Patty watched the healer enter her office for the mentioned potions. The girl slipped out of her bed and cautiously glanced around the curtain separating her from the other side of the room. At first, Patty didn't locate the stranger, but a few steps into the main walkway allowed her catch a glimpse. White, whispy hair, over a dark red hood on a denim jacket.

"Dante?" breezed out through her shock.

.-^_^-.

The medical witch had just walk off to get healing stuff, and Nero tried to get comfortable on a bed within the Hospital Wing. If Wizarding healing worked anything like normal healing, he'd better settle in for the long haul. The Knight could admit, though, the beds here were softer than the examination tables in Fortuna.

The light rustling of cloth from a few beds down alerted him to a third person within the Wing. At first, Nero didn't pay it much mind. This was a nurse's office, basically, so obviously an ill student wouldn't be unexpected. Naturally. However, if it weren't for his enhanced hearing, the Knight would have missed the near-sighed 'Dante' from behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder to find a small girl with blond hair and cozy-looking pajamas. The child squeaked at the sudden attention and backed away a few steps. "S-sorry, mister. I thought you were someone else."

Nero felt the corner of his lips twitch upward. While the girl had stammered at first, she gained her bravery as she had continued to speak. "That's okay, I guess. So you know Dante, huh?"

Surprise shown in wide blue eyes as the blonde nodded. "Yeah! Dante saved me from demons not that long ago. I visited his shop a lot before starting school here. How do you know Dante? You look a lot like him, you know."

The Knight rubbed his nose as a light grin danced across his lips. "He closed four Hell Gates and killed an evil S.O.B. in my hometown. We fought a few times along the way, mostly because my side of the fight didn't know he wasn't the bad guy."

"I'm glad to see you two are getting along," chuckled Madame Pomfrey. She held several vials of potions in one dexterous hand, while the other rested on her hip. "Back to bed for now, Patty. I'll have your next round ready in an hour or so. As for you, young man, I'll need to see the wounds."

The little blonde, Patty, groaned as she trudged back to her bed. Nero shrugged out of his jacket to allow the medi-witch better access to the damaged skin.

.-^_^-.

Dante sloshed his way into the Great Hall of Hogwarts, garnering the stares of students and staff alike. Most of the mud had been defeated, but his hair was still murky without proper shampoo, and his leathers were tinged brown until they could be properly cleaned again. The Devil Hunter honestly didn't want to know just how bad he smelled.

Severus Snape gave the Hunter a repulsed look when Dante approached the staff table. "I do hope you realize, Dante, that you are being paid for the job as a whole and not by the day," the black-haired man sneered.

The half-devil just smirked in response. "I know, I know. I got most of them taken care of. Tomorrow will be the end for the rest of your pests out there. Right now, though, I think you'll agree that I need to bathe." With a tip of his head, Dante circled the table to the door tucked into the shadows and entered his temporary room.

Closing the door behind himself, Dante glanced at the guitar Devil Arm laying on Nero's bed. "Hey, Nevan. Where's the Kid?"

A crackle of electricity washed over the demonic guitar, returning her to her original form. "Hmmmmm, Master. His sleep went without incident. The boy is wandering the castle. One of those servant creatures reported Nero as visiting the Hospital Wing." Nevan lounged on Nero's bed, her red hair still situated to cover her breasts. "What have you been mucking in, Master? You smell foul and look disastrous."

Dante threw a grin at the She-Devil. "Oh, just hunting my quarry, you know. They tried to make a nest in the center of the Forbidden Forest. Had to clean them out." The Man in Red stretched languidly, hands clasped behind himself to pull them upwards. "Now, I'm going to get a bath and wash the gunk off."

"Care for assistance, Master?" Nevan purred as she shifted to that she leaned on an elbow facing the Hunter.

"Naw, I've got it. Thanks."

.-^_^-.

The Caterwauling Charm screamed through formerly quiet Hogsmeade village. The terrible wail of the alarm startled all of the occupants of the town, and nearly everyone huddled deeper within their homes or businesses. Matilda, for example, ducked behind the sale counter of the Honeyduke's candy shop.

Death Eaters dashed out of the Three Broomsticks, intent on finding the persons daring to break curfew. A cluster of remaining Dementors circled the town, ready to swoop in on the signal.

Meanwhile, Aberforth kept an eye on the alleys from the cleaner windows of his pub. Soon enough a trio of teenagers came into view and a stag Protronus held a small group of Dementors at bay. Acting on quick reflexes, the barman tugged open the door and jerked the witch and two wizards into the bar, giving them instructions to go further inside. Aberforth conjured his own goat Patronus just before the Death Eaters ran around a corner, and a round of bickering ensued between the three men.

At last the Death Eaters relented, reluctantly accepting the pub owner's explanation. Aberforth closed and bolted his door shut before spelling it locked at well. _Now_, he thought to himself with more than a little annoyance,_ time to deal with Potter and his companions_.

.-^_^-.

**AN:** At long last, 'Chapter Six: Lingering Frailty' is complete! Again, I do apologize for how long it took to get this chapter posted. Thank you, everyone, who has been patiently (or impatiently) waiting for the next installment. Things will really pick up next chapter as Potter's group is finally in Hogsmeade!


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